


You Don't Know Me

by GlamFolk



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Time, First Time Sex, Fluff, Gendry Waters - Freeform, Secret Identity, Suggested Non-con, gendry x sansa, idk - Freeform, sansa x gendry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2018-12-21 21:36:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11953116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlamFolk/pseuds/GlamFolk
Summary: After years of suffering for being Ned Stark's daughter, all Sansa wants is to be anonymous. But first she needs to get that handsome smith in the village to fix her necklace.





	1. Chapter One

For five years Sansa had dreamed of returning to the North, but now that she had returned, it was the last place she wanted to be.

Robb was gone, and with the seven way split of the seven kingdoms, the North wanted the second Stark child, regardless of gender. Bran was only 15, and had never been comfortable being in a position of power, whereas Rickon was only nine, and his years with Osha had made him only more wild. Ayra...no one knew where Arya was. They never spoke of her.

She had come into the castle at nightfall, personally escorted by Jon and the rest of the Kingsguard. Most of the journey, she had been asleep, taking advantage of every ounce of Milk of the Poppy that Jon's Maester- Sam, she thinks his name was- would give her.

"Burns heal, m'lady," he said. "It's just a painful process."

Sansa hated when she had to change the bandages. The scorch marks on her stomach and right thigh had healed, but the last thing she wanted, Sam had warned her, was an infection. The night she came home, she wished the Queen's dragons had just finished her off. As soon as they had reached the castle, she had asked to be put to bed. Sam carried her up the stairs as Jon held open doors, with Summer following at their heels. The castle had been asleep when she returned, anyway, and she didn't want any grand celebration, welcoming her back home.

I want to be no one, again she thought as she fiddled with her cropped hair in the mirror. Why did they have to cut my hair.

She dreamt of it that night. The night the Lannister guards held her down and cut her long, red hair off with a dirty dagger. "The last thing we need is Jon Snow's army knowing we have is cousin," Mace Tyrell said. "Best make her as unrecognizable as possible."

So they had. Uneven tufts of Sansa's hair stuck out from her bruised skull. Her busted lip was almost done healing, and the darkness from under her eyes was even receding. Still, as soon as she had gotten into her old room, she took the nearest candle stick and shattered the mirror. She ran to the secret compartment behind the bed, yanked out all her favorite old stories of knights, maidens, monsters- she tore them to pieces. Good men, good women, even good monsters - they didn't exist. Sansa didn't know if they ever did. All she knew was that it had been this filth that had made her believe she was going to be a queen, that courtesy and grace could save you, and that you could trust anyone but yourself.

They hadn't raped her, but they had done everything but. "As long as you don't take her maidenhead," Mace said. So they had. Her breasts had bruised from where they were groped and bitten. Her mouth was violated, she was made to be nude at almost all times. She had heard Sam whisper to Jon during the ride up that it was a miracle that she hadn't gotten a disease from the men. Miracle.

She wouldn't leave her bed for three days. All the better, she thought. They wouldn't recognize her, her adoring public. Bran had come by, as had Rickon. Where Bran didn't know how to care for her, Rickon had climbed into her bed, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"I missed you, Sansan," he said, nuzzling into her stomach. It hurt the burn, but she didn't mind. Jon had come to see her, before he returned to his lady wife back home.

"She didn't mean for it to happen," Jon said. "She didn't know it was you, coming in from the dark like you did."

"I don't blame her," Sansa said, sitting up in bed. Jon watched her face, waiting for any sign that she was lying. She wasn't.

"She sent me three raven just this week, asking me to ask all your pardons."

"Dragons are dragons," Sansa sighed. "Even their mother can't control them when they're adults."

Jon smiled down at her- this sister he had barely known and was now more than ever a stranger to him.

"Queen Margery has sent you some of her finest dresses," he said, breaking the silence. "An apology, I assume, for her father's behavior."

"Send them back," Sansa said.

"I don't think that's the most becoming foreign policy-"

"Send them back." She said, raising her voice and looking at Jon with all the ferocity of her younger sister.

"...As the Queen commands," he said. Carefully, he leaned down and put a kiss on Sansa's forehead. "I'll write to you," he promised, turning to walk to the door. Sansa fell back onto her bed, and stared up at the ceiling she had so remembered when she was a child.

I used to pretend that my husband would be enchanted by a witch, made stone until his true love's first kiss she thought. Angrily, she turned onto her side. What a stupid girl. She closed her eyes.

Two weeks later she felt strong enough to walk, and pulled on a simple linen dress to go downstairs. As she was clasping the necklace Bran had given her - "It belonged to our Lady Mother, I was able to smuggle it out"- it came apart in her hand. The chain had given.

"I need a smith," she announced at breakfast. Bran and Rickon looked up from their food, and Maester Erwin, the Summer Islander than Jon had found for her, spoke up.

"I don't know if that the best idea, your wounds are still fresh,"

"I'd had my share of being confined," she snapped back. Master Erwin held his tongue.

"There's a smith in the village an hour's ride from here," Bran said. "Quite good, if Jojen is to be believed."

Jojen, her 'hand'. The North was being run by broken children.

"Allow me to accompany you, your grace," Meera spoke up.

"No," Sansa said. "I'll go alone,"

"I really don't think that's a good idea," Bran said. "What if you're recognized?"

"No one will recognize me like this," she pointed to her hair.

"They will have to see their queen sometime-"

"And today is not that day," she paused for a moment. "Please, Bran. Let me be anonymous again. If only for a day,"

Bran exchanged looks wit Osha, who had long since finished her bowl.

"You should cover your hair in soot," she said. "As an extra precaution. Do you know how to use a dagger?"

Sansa nodded. Jon had showed her, the day before he returned home. "Bows and arrows, some, too."

"Let her go, little lord," Osha said.

After covering her hair in soot, Sansa mounted what Bran assured her was 'the fastest horse', and begun for the village. She had changed into men's breeches, and had an old, worn cloak around her. The ride was long, but it was peaceful. She had almost forgotten the effect of silence on a restless mind. She still panicked, though, when she heard horses approaching from behind, but often they were just farmers or small boys racing. She saw a girl on one of the horses, and thought of Arya.

I'm sorry, she thought. I'm sorry I was so cruel to you.

When she reached the village, she asked one of the men where the smith's shop was. He pointed to a building not far down the road, and she rode her horse down the way. After hitching him to the post, she went up to the table, and tried to get the attention of the young man hammering away at some metal.

"Pardon," she said, but quickly corrected herself. Low-born girls don't have manners.

"HEY!" she barked, and he stopped. He was muscular, and stood atleast half a head taller than her. His dark hair fell in his eyes, and curls sprung from his chest and trailed all the way to above his breeches. For the first time in years, Sansa felt her stomach bloom with the warmth she used to feel when Jofferey looked at her.

"What you want?" he asked, walking over to her still clutching his hammer. His stubble was dark like his hair, and Sansa had to remind herself to look at him in the eyes. She fished out the necklace.

"Can you fix this?" she asked. He reached out and his coarse hands touched her palm.

"Don't really do jewelry," he said, inspecting it. "But the break is clean enough. Where'd you get this?"

"What you mean?" Sansa tried to mirror his speech. She may no longer be pretty, but she was still smart. Aya had her sword, Sansa had her intelligence, and it had saved her so far.

"I mean, what' some one like you doing with a fine piece like this,"

Say you found it. Stole it. Won it in a game of cards.

"Won it,"she said. "Drank some Braavosi under the table."

"Hmpf," he looked back down at it, before turning back to her. "I'm making some armor for Queen Sansa's Queensguard. Should be finished in a fortnight. Come back then, and we can discuss price. Whats your name?"

Sansa hesitated. Not Sansa. Not Alayne. Not Cat.

"Eryn." she almost barked. "Eryn Snow."

He considered her for a second, before pocketing the necklace.

"Right. Have it to you in a fortnight," he was about to turn back to the forge before she spoke up.

"And you?" she said, hoping it didn't sound as eager as she thought.

He looked up from his anvil. "Gendry," he replied. Then brought his hammer down.


	2. Chapter Two

For the next week, Sansa tried to avoid going anywhere that wasn't her room or the Godswood. She was trying everyone's patience, she knew that- but the last thing she wanted to do was take on any responsibility, let alone make a public appearance. Osha had come to her one night, and helped shape her hair into something much less uneven. Still, it looked like a boy's hair cut.

"Brings out your eyes," Osha said.

Sansa turned to look at her, and away from the mirror that hung in her room. "Did Bran or Jojen ask you to talk to me?"

"They want you to come to the small council tomorrow afternoon," she said, matter oh factly. "They don't really understand, do they?"

"Tell them I'll come," Sansa said. Truth be told she had felt a little guilty for letting them run the country while she was recovering, but all she wanted to do was stay in bed.

Osha ran her fingers through Sansa's hair. "It looks good on you, if it's any consolation."

For the first time in months, Sansa smiled.

"Dorne wishes to establish trade," Jojen said the next night. "Spices for lumber."

"Transportation costs would be outrageous," Bran sighed.

"Dorne has not begun trading with anyone in the Seven Kingdoms since the split. The ships may cost more, but we could resell the spices at a higher price to our neighbors," Sansa countered. "Tell them we'll agree."

Jojen nodded and made a note on the parchment. "That brings us to another matter,"

"Maybe not tonight," Bran said cautiously.

"What?" Sansa looked up at her brother, whose eyes were unsure.

"Honestly, Sansa, it can wait-"

"Tell me,"

"Five ravens have come just today asking for your Grace's marriage expectations." Jojen interrupted. "Harold from the Vale, Willas Tyrell...Stannis has even offered the hand of his legitimized heir, Edric."

"No," Sansa spat. "The Tyrells insult me with their offer, as if banishing their father could ever make up for their slight against us. Harold was an insufferable cock during my time in the Vale, and I will not give the North to Stannis Baratheon."

Bran flinched when she said 'cock', unaccustomed to hearing his once chivalrous sister speak.

"We don't have to discuss the matter now-" Meera started.

"We don't have to discuss the matter ever." Sansa countered. "Dorne is ruled by a woman, why the North should be any different is beyond me. These men make offers because they believe that I'll step down. I will not. Winterfell will never belong to anyone but a Stark ever again."

"Sansa, you're being irrational," Bran complained.

"I don't wish to discuss the matter any further," Sansa huffed. "Are we done?"

"...We're done," Meera sighed, collecting the parchment in front of her.

"Good," Sansa said, and stood to leave.

She changed into her riding gear as soon as she got to her room. She reached into the fireplace and brought a handful of ashes to her head, and coated her hair until it was black as night. Careful to avoid anyone, she crept through the castle quietly, ducking into any nook and cranny when she heard someone come. Once in the stables, she found her horse and quickly departed.

Stupid Bran. she thought, as soon as she was thirty minutes into her ride. Stupid Jojen, stupid Meera, stupid me. She felt a tear begin to roll down her cheek, and went to wipe it away with suck force that her nail cut her cheek.

Don't cry. You big baby, don't fucking cry. It was too late. Water ran from her cheeks down onto her saddle, and she felt her throat tighten. She saw the faces of the men who had used her, round, red, fat and laughing. Their grotesque mouths telling her was a pretty girl she was and how she could put those big lips of hers to use. Their dirty fingers pinching her nipples until she screamed. Rough blades ripping through her shifts and pointed at the small of her back until she would allow herself to be paraded through the camp, naked.

If Highgarden wants an alliance with the North, I'll see all those men hanged. she thought, spurring her horse to trot faster. They will never have my tears again.

When she came to the village, she immediately went to the smith. He was there again, Gendry, still as dirty as ever. She shouldn't have felt her stomach flip whenever he looked up at her, but she did.

"Thought I told you a fortnight," he said, putting down the sword he was inspecting.

"Thought maybe you had gotten a chance to finish it," she answered. He put down the sword and went to the work bench, and pulled a drawer out.

"You're lucky its been a slow week," he said, and walked over to her. Sansa cupped her hands as he dropped the necklace into her palm. She held it up to inspect where it had been broken. Nothing. She quickly put the necklace over her head and reached into her pocket.

"How much do I owe you?" she asked.

"Don't worry about it," he countered, reaching for his shirt. "You caught me in a good mood,"

Don't take his charity. she thought Don't take anyone's charity. Never again.

"I insist," she said, watching his pull the shirt over his body. Gods preserve me.

"It's fine," he huffed. "If you'll excuse me, I'm closing."

Sansa racked her brains.

"How about a drink then?" she asked without thinking.

He looked up at her and sighed.

"Where do you live?" he asked, taking a sip of the pint. They were seated outside of a loud tavern, listening to the faint sound of music from within.

"I work in Winterfell," she said. Yes, good. "In the kitchens."

"Must be nice," he said, putting his pint down. "You don't seem like the type,"

"What's my type?"

"I dunno. Not a maid, not a stable girl." His deep blue eyes considered her. "You probably are going to end up taking care of the little prince and princesses that are sure to come,"

Sansa's nose wrinkled. "I don't think that'll happen any time soon,"

"The Queen isn't already brokered into some marriage? Or pregnant from her time with Mace Tyrell?"

Don't cry. Don't break.

"Not that we've heard. Maybe she'll take a lover," she finished her drink.

"You really did drink a Braavosi under the table," Gendry laughed. "Third pint, that."

I just don't want to feel anything.

"What about you," she asked. "How'd you get here?"

He sighed, and fiddled with the handle of his drink. "I was working at an inn, with all these little kids running around. War put an end to that. Lannisters, Iron Islanders- someone torched it. I came North to get away from the war, found a work here. Lord Stark sent word to me, asking me to make armor for the Queensguard. How'd you end up at the castle?"

What's left of it. What Ramsay didn't burn.

"Mother used to work for the Starks. Grew up in a village not far. Queen Sansa remembered my mother and offered me a job,"

"Nice of her," he looked down at his drink.

My heads all floaty. He's so lovely.

"She's nice," she said. "And clever."

Gendry looked up at the sky. "It's late, I should be getting back,"

Sansa felt sad, all the sudden. "Alright,"

"You riding back to the castle tonight?"

"Not really another option,"

"I have a friend who works at the Inn, I could probably get you a night there, if you wish."

"It's fine-"

"Riding back alone isn't safe," he said. "Please. I'd sleep better."

What would Eryn say. What would Eryn say.

"I've never trusted Inns. Father was an Innkeep-raped my mother during her stay."

Gendry didn't miss a beat.

"I've got an extra room, by the shop." he said. Before she could respond he finished "No funny business. Just a place for you to sleep."

Sansa paused, weighing her options. Bran must be going out of his mind, wondering where she was. Then again, it was customary for her lock herself in her room all day, and no one had seen her leave. Plus, worse things could happen if she was caught, traveling alone at night. The end of the war had made things safe, but evil is never truly gone from men's hearts.

"Alright," she said. "No funny business."

They paid for their drinks and began walking back, silent at first, and Sansa was getting used to the sound of their feet falling in and out of rhythmic sync when he spoke up.

"I heard the Queen's beautiful,"

"I heard she's supposed to be beautiful," she shrugged. They arrived at the smith and he turned to face her. "If you like her type," Sansa joked.

"What type is that?"

"Rich. Dreamy. Still thinks the world is a song," she lied.

"That's admirable, after all that's happened to her, I suppose."

"Going to ride up the gates and ask for her hand?"

He laughed. "No, I think I prefer your type," he said, meeting her eyes.

For the first time that night, Sansa was speechless.

"What...what type is that?"

"Funny. Clever. Stubborn." he took a step closer to her. "You still want to pay me for your necklace?"

Sansa couldn't think. She couldn't speak. Her mind was racing and she wished to all those above she hadn't drank as much as she did.

"Yes," she breathed.

Two rough fingers found their way to her chin and tilted her face towards his. Slowly, he pressed his lips to hers.

He's so warm. He tastes like mead. My chest is on fire. Gods be good.

He broke away then, leaving her in a daze.

"Forgive me, I know I said nothing funny. I meant it. I-" Sansa stopped him, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling his face back down to hers. She felt his hands graze down to her lower back, pulling her closer to him as the kiss deepened. Quickly, he pushed back into the door leading to his rooms, and Sansa kicked the door behind her closed. She pulled his shirt open, feeling the laces slide beneath her fingers as she ran her nails through his chest hair. He groaned. She felt his hand at the bottom hem of her shirt, his calloused fingers running up the side that wasn't scarred. Sansa hummed as he moved his mouth down to her neck, kissing and sucking at the skin there.

He's so kind. So good at this.

She felt his hand touch her breast, and froze.

Such pretty teats for a girl? They know how to breed them in the north, they laughed. She struggled against their holds as the leader of the group ran his dirty fingers all over her, then bent down to take her into his mouth. Shame they won't let us fuck you he said. I heard they like bastards in the north.

Sansa pushed him away, and he fell onto the bed behind him, shocked. Before he could say anything, she realized what she had done.

"Oh...no. Shit. I'm- I'm sorry."

"No, it's-it's me," he stood back up, lacing his shirt closed. He was embarrassed. "I shouldn't have...I shouldn't have."

"Gendry-"

"You can have this bed," he said, brushing past her. "I'll take the one in there,"

"Gendry." She said, aching for him to look back at her.

He turned around in the doorway, before speaking.

"Sweet dreams, Eryn."

He disappeared into the dark of the other room. Sansa sunk down onto the bed, and wanted to cry.

I had to fuck it up. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She fell asleep with tears on her face.

When she woke up, it was still night. She lifted her head from the pillow, unaware of where she was for the moment.

Oh. Right.

She looked over to the doorway to the room. Without meaning to, she started walking towards it. It was almost like something had possessed her to do it, and against her judgement she was standing over the sleeping blacksmith.

She pulled her shirt over her head and felt the cool air against her chest. Her nipples pebbled and her flesh pricked. Silently, she sat on the bed- much less comfortable than the other- and took his arm around her.

"Mmmpf?" he asked. She turned to face him.

"What-what are you doing?" he awoke.

"I was lonely," she said.

"Eryn,"

"Sssh." She pressed a kiss to his lips, then nestled into the crook of his neck. "I'm sorry. I haven't had the best experience with men."

He sighed, and then pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"I wouldn't hurt you," he said.

"I know."

With that, she fell asleep, listening to his heart beat like a lullaby.


	3. Chapter Three

By some miracle, it was still dark when she woke up.

Sansa sat up, and looked through the window out at the moon. It hung in the sky, full and swollen, bright as ever. She turned to look at her companion. He was fast asleep, breathing softly. The moonlight reflected off his dark hair, making his head and chest look peppered with a brilliant silver. He looked soft, not the hard, strong presence that she had met only a week before.

Suddenly conscious of her state, she reached for her tunic at the foot of the bed.

"What are you doing?" a sleepy voice came from behind her. Sansa turned to look over her shoulder. Gendry was rubbing his eyes and slowly sitting up.

"Ssssh, go back to sleep," she said, so gently she surprised herself. But he was up, and looking at her with clear eyes.

"You're leaving?" he said, looking at the tunic she was holding against her chest.

"I have to get back," she said, afraid to look him in the eye. Why can't I just tell him? Why can't I really be Eryn Snow?

Gendry eyed the moon. "It's an hour, maybe two until dawn." He turned back to look at her. "I don't know if it's safe for you to go alone." He threw his legs over the bed, and stood up. he wasn't wearing anything.

With a small squeak, Sansa turned her head to the side, averting her eyes. "Sorry, I-"

"Never seen a man's arse before?" Gendry teased, picking up his trousers from the floor. He pulled them up quickly, lacing himself in before turning around. "Alright, you can look now."

Sansa looked back at him as he stood, watching her.

"I'm sorry, I'm just-"

"You're not a maiden, are you?"

Sansa balked a bit at the question but caught herself. Why should a bastard girl who worked for a high lord be offended by such a question? Sansa always knew that the servants at Winterfell weren't held to the same expectations she was. She had, throughout her youth, accidentally stumbled on couples in the nooks and crannies of the castle. When her mother's young maid's stomach began to swell, she remembered the hasty marriage that her father allowed between the girl and a shopkeeper from the nearest town.

"Yes," she said quickly. There was no use in lying. her inexperience would shine through, either way.

His smile dropped. "Oh, shit... I didn't mean to make fun...I sound like a prat," he looked at his feet. "Look, I didn't mean to push you into anything...pressure you or anything, I just...fuck, I thought..."

Sansa's face softened, watching him stumble over his words. He didn't want to offend or disrespect her, in fact, the very idea seemed to send him into a spiral of stuttered words and endless sentences. Before she could stop herself, she stood from the bed, and let the tunic drop.

Gendry suddenly stopped talking. She wished she could pretend it just because she was standing in front of him in nothing but her small clothes. But she saw his eyes flick down, even if only for a moment. Her blotchy, red scars wrapped around her leg and up to the right side of her rib cage. A lick of flame had left a protruding limb - almost like a tree - cutting across her stomach, stopping right under her breasts.

Neither of them said anything. Sansa stood there, watching his eyes look over her body like he was appraising it for sale. Just as she opened her mouth to say something, he spoke first.

"You're beautiful," he said.

She scoffed.

"Don't lie to me," she said.

"I'm not," he said. He started toward her, extending his hand out to her waist and lightly grazing over some of the scar tissue, as if it was delicate, as if she was breakable, and not a hardened shell of healed wounds and experience. He trailed his hand up, but stopped himself.

"Is...is this okay? Can I...?"

Sansa felt her throat hitch. How long had it been since someone asked her permission?

Not wanting him to hear her voice crack, Sansa nodded. Slowly, he ran his finger along the underside of her breast, down the center of her belly, and around the back before allowing his fingers play with the hem of her small clothes.

"Is this okay?" he said, slowly starting to inch a finger into her smalls.

"Y..Yes..." she sighed, and before she could say anything else, she felt his mouth on hers.

She didn't think she had taken steps backwards, or that he had pushed her, but she found herself back on the mattress, with Gendry hovering over her, kissing her aggressively. He broke away from her mouth to leave open mouth kisses down her neck, sucking at the sensitive skin as Sansa tried her best not to moan too loudly. As he worried her collarbone lightly with his teeth and lips, she felt his fingers begin to play with her smallclothes' hem. Softly, he let his hand wander down, brushing her curls, until -

"Fuck," Sansa whined.

She could feel him smile against her skin as he began to rub her folds. She was wet, and if she would let him, if she wasn't a maiden, if she wasn't slowly pulling him into her sphere more he would have taken her there. He had thought of her the week she had been gone. In truth, he had begun the necklace soon after she had left, ignoring other projects to focus on the small clasp. The Queen could wait.

Gendry dropped his head down and took a nipple between his lips, and pressed a finger into her. Her body seized.

"Shit, I'm sorry-" he began to pull his hand away, but she caught his hand before he could.

"Don't stop," she breathed. Gendry, overcome by confidence, smiled and kissed her lips, before returning to her chest. He flicked his tongue over one hard peak, before taking it wholly in his mouth, and began to push his finger in slowly. He pressed his palm against her sensitive bundle of nerves, working it slowly in circles as he crooked his finger inside of her. She gasped a little bit, and threw her head against his mattress. Immediately, she threw her hands over her mouth to stop her moans. She looked mortified that she was enjoying herself.

Something had happened to this girl. Something terrible that made her question her right to her sexuality and her body. Gendry knew of the terrible things that happened to young women at the mercy of horrible men. As much as he wanted to pin her to the bed and make her scream, he knew she needed to be in control of this, or he would risk sending her to a hell he couldn't ever understand.

Judging by her face right now though, she was as far from hell as a woman could get. However, he would still ask. A bastard with manners still has honor.

"Can I try something?" he breathed, having moved further up the bed so he could look in her eyes. Slowly, she opened them.

"What?" she asked.

"Can I put my mouth on you?"

Her face contorted slightly as if he had just started speaking Valerian.

"I mean...can I put my mouth down...here." he pulled his finger out of her with a small whine escaping her lips, and began to rub her in small circles. "Can I use my tongue on you?"

"Why?" she asked, sitting up. He followed suit. She was suddenly modest, and pulled the blanket to cover her breasts.

"Because I think you'd like it," he explained. "and...I like it. I like doing it." Gods, he was blushing.

Sansa considered his face for a second.

"My name's not Eryn," she confessed, her face not changing expression.

"I don't care," he said, not skipping a beat.

"I lied to you."

"People lie all the time."

"Why do you want a dishonest woman?"

"Because sometimes we lie to protect ourselves." he said. "The world's not kind to women."

Sansa considered his profile in the moonlight. She reached out and turned his face towards her. His eyes carried so much emotion...he wanted her, that was plain. She had felt his hardness press into her thigh. But there was something else. Restraint. Respect. Concern.

"What if you don't like who I am," she whispered.

"Would I do this to someone I didn't like?" He said, snaking his hand up between her legs. He pressed against her slowly, watching a small smile form.

"I suppose not," she said. He scooted closer to her, and kissed her gently.

"May I?" he asked, pressing his forehead against hers.

"Use your mouth on me?" she finished for him.

He nodded.

"Yes. You may."

That was all he needed to hear.

"Lie back," he said. "Put the pillow behind your head."

Sansa obliged, pulling the pillow from above her head and scooting down. Gendry climbed off and sat at the foot of the bed. Carefully, he put his hands on Sansa's calf, pulling her down the bed slowly, smiling as he heard girlish giggles escape from her lips.

"No one's ever done this before," she said, her arms covering her chest. Softly, Gendry captured her wrists and pushed her arms up by her head. She smiled and looked away, a deep blush taking over her face.

"I'll stop whenever you say to," he offered. Her big blue eyes turned back to look at him. She lifted her head up to kiss him.

Gendry drug his fingers down her arms, and cupped her breasts in his hands. He kissed her eyes, her nose, her lips, her chin - working his way down her throat, between her breasts, and her belly button (she let out a surprised screech, but upon looking up, he saw it was because he had discovered her most ticklish spot. He kissed it a few more times before it was too much and she would pull away. He paused at the hem of her small clothes.

"I'm going to take these off," he said. She looked down at him, and nodded.

He hooked his fingers around the hem, and slowly began to tug down. He was reminded that, if she was anyone else, he would have torn them straight from her body. But Eryn - or, whoever she was - seemed to appreciate him going slow. And he didn't mind seeing her react to every small touch.

She lifted her hips for him, and in one swift movement, she was lying bare on the mattress. Instictually, she clamped her legs together.

"Can't very well use my mouth on you if you've got you legs shut," he laughed.

Sansa took in a deep breath.

"Do you still want this?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "I just...memories."

He rested a hand on her knee. "It's alright."

Sansa opened her eyes and looked down at him. Would any other man be this patient? Could Willas Tyrell, Harold of the Vale, or any other man who had had designated their servant to write and send her a parchment asking for her hand in marriage, be this kind.

Holding his gaze, Sansa let her legs fall open. She nodded.

Gendry started agonizingly slow. He kissed the inside of one knee, and then the other. He trailed kisses down to her inner thigh, and Sansa felt his breath on her. No one had been this close to her. Not even her abusers. This was new. This was safe.

Gendry took one ankle in his hand and put it over his shoulder, and then the other. Looking her in the eye, he closed his mouth over her. Sansa's head dropped back, and a small gasp escaped her. Gendry's hand reached up and grabbed her breast, catching a nipple in between his thumb and forefinger. Sansa bucked.

"Oh fuck! I'm sorry, did I-"

"No," he said, breaking from her. "Shut up." and dove back in.

Sansa let her head fall back on the pillow, and watched him. He pushed his tongue into her, and drug it up until it hit the underside of her most sensitive place. He readjusted to bring his other hand up, letting a leg fall to the side of him. He brought his head up and dipped his fingers into his mouth, making them slick. With a quick glance up at her, he took her bud between his lips, and pressed two digits against her. When she sighed, he pressed his fingers into her.

"Fuck," he whispered against her. His breeches had become painfully restrictive. "You're...tight."

"What?" she said, dreamily as he pumped into her lazily. His other hand dropped from her breast, down to unlace his breeches.

"Your cunt," he said, all propriety clouded by how badly he wanted to put his mouth back on her. "It's perfect."

Before she could reply, he put his mouth back on her, and began circling her nub with his tongue. Sansa let her head fall back on the pillow, and stared up at the ceiling as dueling thoughts battled in her mind.

Look at you. Queen of the North. Daughter of Lord and Lady Catelyn Stark, letting some stranger rut you with his fingers on a dirty mattress. Whore. Slut.

I'm not a Stark right now. she countered. I'm no one. I'm just here. Hang Winterfell. Hang the Kingdom. Hand Bran, and Rickon, Jojen, and Meera and Jon. Hang anyone who would demand anything from me. I'm not a Stark. Not here.

Gendry's fingers picked up the pace, breaking Sansa out of her haze. Her back arched as he hit a place in her that made lights appear behind her eyes.

"Are you close?" he asked.

"I don't...I don't know.." she sighed.

"Look at me," he asked.

Sansa looked down at the man between her legs. She turned away, embarrassed.

"Please, I just want to look at you when you come," he said.

What the hell does that mean? nevertheless, she turned back to him. His eyes were dark. Holding her gaze, he pumped his two fingers into her, crooking up at the exact moment he sucked her. The tension in her body that had been building since they kissed outside his home finally snapped, and Sansa felt herself contract around him. Heat bloomed where they were joined and spread up her chest, leaving a tingling sensation as it traveled to the tips of her fingers, the top of her head, and her curling toes. She fell back with a heaving sigh, her eyes closed, riding out whatever had just happened to her body.

From below, she heard Gendry grunt, then gasp. When she finally willed herself to look at him, he was wiping his hand with an old rag. She flipped herself and crawled down the bed to him. Carefully, she draped her arms around his neck, and brought him into a kiss. She could taste herself on him, and his stubble was slick and scratchy, but she pulled him closer. His hands came to cup her face.

Outside, a rooster crowed. Sansa broke the kiss and looked outside. Dawn.

"Suppose it was an hour instead of two," he offered. Sansa smiled and quickly climbed off the bed. She reached down to retrieve her smalls from the floor, pulling them up, despite how wet she was between her legs.

"I'll have to be getting back," she said, reaching for her tunic. Gendry finished lacing himself back into his shorts.

"Do you even work at Winterfell?" he asked cheekily.

"Yes," she confessed, pulling her tunic over her. She began the walk into the other room for her shoes.

"I imagine I'll see you again, then," he said, leaning in the doorway as she pulled her tunic and shoes on. She stood up once she had finished and walked directly to him, pressing a kiss on his mouth.

"I'll be sure to break some jewelry," she teased. Encouraged by her flirting, he wrapped his arms around her and pushed her against the door frame. His hand dipped into her smalls again.

"Into hundreds of pieces," he said, watching her face react to his motions. "So you have to come by. You'll have to come, again, and again, and again..." he dipped his mouth to her neck, barely kissing before the rooster had crowed again.

"I really have to go," Sansa giggled, pushing him off of her. He smiled down at her.

"That rooster is blind. He sings when it's the middle of the night. Come back to bed."

Sansa smiled. "And the light outside?"

"An illusion. You must have a horrible sickness," he took her face in his hands. "Luckily, I know a cure."

Sansa kissed him again, letting him deepen it as much as he pleased. When he broke it off, he ran his thumb down her cheek. "When can I see you again?"

Sansa racked her brain. She couldn't remember her responsibilities that week, not after that. She hummed.

"In a few days. I have to be careful leaving the castle,"

"Protective over their pretty servant girls, are they?"

"I am an integral part of the castle," she giggled, breaking away from him. She collected her things, pulled her coat over her shoulders and made for the front door.

"I'll be counting," he said. She turned back to look at him. "the days," he clarified. "You have three days to get back here, or I'll storm the gates of Winterfell herself." he smiled back at her. "Could I have your name, at least?"

She opened the door, and turned to him before she left.

"Next time,"


	4. Chapter Four

As Sansa rode back to Winterfell, she knew it would take a miracle for her to get back into her room unnoticed.

The guards had changed night to day shifts already, and when she arrived on the main road leading to the front gate, her opportunity had already passed by her. Swearing under her breath, she took a moment to ready herself for the barrage of questions and concern.

"You were out late, weren't you?" a voice said from her right.

Sansa's head swiveled. Osha was coming out of the woods, a crudely made carrying mechanism holding four dead rabbits by their feet hung over her shoulder. She came to stand next to Sansa's horse, looking up at the Lady of Winterfell.

Sansa pursed her lips and looked back at the castle.

"Don't understand how your lot do it," Osha huffed, bumping Sansa's horse to follow her.

"Do what?" Sansa asked.

"Stay cooped up in these things. Follow all the rules just because some Lordling drunk on his own piss said everyone should be a certain way."

As they approached the gate, Osha held her capture up. The guards hesitated. Sansa remembered that no one had really seen her since her return, other than the castle's servants, her family, and the council.

"The Lady Sansa accompanied me this morning," Osha offered, rescuing both sides from the embarrassment of having to ask for the Queen's identification. As the gate slowly raised up, Osha turned her head up to Sansa and winked.

The morning had passed quickly after that. Jojen had asked a dozen questions as soon as she strolled into the hall that morning, nagging her to approve this or that, respond to the piles of letters that had been accumulating on her desk for the past month, and to begin preparations for the Harvest. Despite how tired she was from the night before, Sansa was able to keep up with her council as they convened for the next four hours.

"A break, I beg you," Meera sighed after Jojen had started ticking off even more tasks that needed to be addressed.

"We have been in here for quite some time," Sansa said. "What else did we need to discuss?"

"Our trade deal with Dorne was accepted," Jojen rolled the scroll back up, and began lacing it. "This next month will be our first shipment. They are sending Trystane and Myrcella Martell to ensure the first shipment arrives safely."

And to gawk, Sansa held back. No doubt they heard of the horrible tales of the Lady of Winterfell's captivity.

"When are they scheduled to arrive?" Sansa asked.

"A month." Jojen answered. "Less, if their boasts about their ships are to be believed."

"Very well," Sansa sat up straighter. "Ready the eastern wing's chambers for their arrival, and make sure that the barracks by the smith are ready to house their men."

Jojen nodded.

"If there is nothing further, then I motion we dismiss," she said. The council nodded, and slowly, everyone began to gather their things and make towards the exits. Sansa rose from her chair and walked to the corner window, looking down into the training yard where boys were hitting training dummies with large sticks. Walking in between them, their instructor called out orders.

"I didn't get a chance to ask earlier,"

Sansa jumped, startled from her window gazing. Osha strolled up to stand by her, obviously proud of having snuck up on the Queen for a second time in one day.

"Didn't get a chance to ask what?"

"If you're alright," Osha said. "If last night you were where you wanted to be."

Sansa paused and looked out at the sky. Clouds had begun to gather.

"I think," Sansa said, wishing the snow would start to fall. Gods, she had missed snow. "I think so."

Osha smiled and looked down at the yard as Bran and Jojen entered, and began to converse with the instructor who had been shouting commands moments before.

"They don't understand," Osha stated. Sansa shook her head, then looked back up at the sky.

"You know," Osha said, pushing herself off the wall. "I could stand going into the village some nights out of the week," She turned to look to Sansa, who stared at her.

"I'm not spying on you," Osha said as if she could read Sansa's mind. "But traveling at night alone is foolish. You know that."

Sansa turned away from Osha, and nodded.

Osha sighed.

"If you feel the itch to go again, at least let me know." She bent to pick up some of the fallen parchment from the floor. "If you wouldn't let me ride into town with you, then at least I can be ready to help you bluff your way back into the castle."

Osha made her way to the heavy wooden door and almost had her hand on the latch when Sansa spoke up.

"Would two days time be acceptable?" she asked.

Sansa had excused herself from dinner, feigning an upset stomach. After she was out of sight, she slipped down the opposite corridor and retrieved her bag and coat from a nook by the stable door. Hurriedly, she pulled it open, and stiffened as it was almost thrown against the wall by the wind. She managed to catch it just in time and closed the door hurriedly before she could draw anyone's attention.

Osha rounded the corner, hands full of soot ready to dye Sansa's hair.

"Don't," she said before she could pour a handful onto her head.

Osha crumbled the ashes between her fingers. "Pull your hood up, at least," Osha said plainly before leading her mount out.

They rode up to the side gate and Osha signaled to the guard to let them pass. Sansa looked at her quizzingly.

"We have a deal," she said bluntly. Sansa didn't inquire further.

Once the two were on the road, they picked up speed. The ride remained mostly silent, and by the time they had arrived at the town limit, the sun had already begun to set.

"How long are we staying?" Osha asked.

"The night, if you can find accommodations,"

"Aye," Osha said. Sansa made to move her mount, but Osha stopped her with a question.

"If I need to find you, where do I go?"

"Meet by the smith," she said before beginning to trot down the road. From the outskirts of the town, the trip to Gendry's shop was barely a two-minute ride. Sansa felt Osha's eyes bearing into her back after she rode off without saying anything else. She knows what I'm doing, Sansa thought. I think she may even approve.

Before turning the corner she looked back to make sure Osha had gone. Sure enough, the road was empty except for village children who were chasing a dog down the street. Sansa dismounted and tied her mount to the nearest post before continuing down the path.

He must have sensed someone walking up. He looked from his work before she could say anything, and smiled.

"Found some broaches that need some repair, then?" he asked, putting his hammer down on the work table.

"Bracelets, actually." Sansa smiled. "Trickier. Smaller clasps."

Gendry motioned to the door, and Sansa quickly pushed through. After she entered, she removed her hood and turned around in time to see him bring the latch down. He turned to look at her, and his eyebrows raised.

"That explains the soot in my bed," he said, pointing to her head. Sansa's hands flew up to her head, forgetting that she had asked Osha not to dump soot in her hair.

"I was advised to color it," she said, reaching up and pulling a tuft of it. "Draws less attention."

"Yes, mustn't let the villagers know we're going to be run over by kitchen girls. Gingers, especially." He closed the space between them and rested his chin on her head, wrapping his arms around her back. Sansa brought her arms up, raking her nails up his back until she could lace them together. She breathed him in, trying to memorize the scent.

"Can you stay?" he asked. She nodded against him.

"I'll have to depart at dawn," she said as he pulled away and made for the small fireplace he had in the corner. He bent down and and threw another log from the stack onto the flames.

"Coming in the evenings, disappearing before the sun comes up," he smiled, turning back to her. "You sound like one of the characters in a children's story."

"Well," she sauntered over to him, dropping beside him by the fire. "I suppose they skimmed over the parts in the other room."

He reached out and took her hand, running his thumb along her palm.

"You're not a serving girl either, are you?"

Sansa shook her head.

"You said you'd tell me your name the next time I saw you,"

Sansa bit the inside of her lip, and looked into the fire.

"It's not important," she sighed. She reached out to retrieve a stick from his wood pile, and gently leaned it into the fire, watching it ignite.

"So not a serving girl, and not named Eryn," Gendry leaned back on his palms.

"No," she answered, bringing the stick to her lips and blowing out the flame.

"I don't know anything about you, then." he sighed.

"You know the important things," she said, throwing her stick into the fire and turning back to look at him.

"Oh yeah? What's that? Your hair color?"

"No," she answered, her voice dropping down to a low whisper. Quietly, she pushed him against the wall, and climbed onto his lap, straddling him. His hand came up to stroke her back. Sansa felt him getting sitff under her. She tried to summon all the confidence she could, and lowered her voice to a low whisper, terrified anyone else would hear what she was about to breathe into his ear. Leaning down to kiss his neck, she tilted her head up and whispered: "You know I have a tight cunt."

He gripped the back of her head and brought it down to his. His other hand snaked around her waist and pulled him closer against her, bucking his hips up against her, brushing up against the small bundle he had been so enamored with the last time she had been in his home. She made to lift his shirt off, which he hastily obliged, tossing it to the opposite corner. In a swift movement, he flipped their position, placing her carefully on the ground in front of the fireplace and he crawled on top of her, and took her wrists above her head. His other hand found its way to her knee, and began pushing her skirt up. She felt him press two fingers against her, and rocked her hips against him. Slowly, he dipped them into her.

Sansa arched her back, and she felt him begin to fiddle with the buttons fastening her dress.

"Let me," she said, sitting up as he pulled her fingers from between her legs and watched as she quickly undid the back. Finally loose enough, she pulled the dress down over her legs, until all she had left was her shift. Eager to get back, he pushed her down and put his hand between her legs again. His thumb went up to circle the nub before pushing back in.

"Harder," she whispered. Before he could question her, Sansa pulled the straps of her shift off her shoulders and under her breasts.

"Harder," she said again, pulling his head down.

"As the lady commands," he quipped before kissing her.

Sansa let out a small gasp as he followed her instructions. He dipped his head into the valley between her breasts and kissed the hard bone in between them.

"Faster," she asked again. He looked up at her.

"Are you sure?"

She rolled her hips as a response.

Gendry picked up his pace. Soon, the woman below him was starting to buck against his hand.

"Like that," she managed to say before clenching her eyes shut to focus. Gendry dropped his face down and captured her mouth. "Fuck, I'm -" Gendry felt it before she said anything. With a hushed gasp, Sansa came undone around him. Falling back on the dirt floor to catch her breath, Sansa felt him rest his head against her chest, slowly pulling his hand from between her legs.

They lay like that in silence for a moment, before Sansa realized that she could still feel him pressed hard against her. Gingerly, she pushed Gendry off of her, switching the positions.

"What are you-?"

"Ssh," she said. She trailed her finger down his chest before dipping below the hem of his trousers. When the memories started to rear their heads - their ugly, vile, heads - Sansa dismissed them.

I'm not Sansa here. She thought. They never touched the woman in this room.

She gripped him softly, and his head fell back against the floor. Gently, she began to tug it up, and catching her hands in his laces. Quickly, she undid them, and pulled him out. She didn't look - if she focused on his face, the memories would quiet down.

"Is this okay?" she said, moving her hand up and down.

"Yes," he choked out. Sansa smiled, and began to increase the pace. She twisted her wrist one way, and he stifled a moan by bringing his arm over his mouth. She twisted up again, only to see him squirm under her.

"Shall I go faster?" she asked coyly.

He laughed.

"Go any faster and I'll be spent."

She smiled.

She increased the pace and flicked her thumb over the head. Gendry grit his teeth and whispered something under his breath.

He's so warm, she thought, jerking her hand up well endowed, too.

She bent down to kiss him and balanced herself over him as she began manuevering him again.

"I'm going..." he bit the inside of his lip. "I'm going to...soon."

Sansa smiled, and bent down to kiss his open mouth. He let out a grunt, and suddenly Sansa's hand was filled with a warm liquid. She stopped her motions, and let him fall on his back below her. After wiping her hand on her shift, she lowered herself down, placing her head against his chest.

"Bloody hell," he said finally after he had exhaled a few ragged breaths.

She smiled against his skin and looked up at him.

"Thank you," she giggled. With a sigh he let his head fall back to the floor and brought an arm up around Sansa.

"If you won't tell me your name, tell me something about you. Something true."

Sansa let her mind wander. What was left of her, she wondered, besides her name?

"Lemon cakes," she said finally. "I like lemon cakes."

"Huh," he sighed. He reached up and stroked her hair.

He wanted something else.

"I had three brothers," she said. "One died during the war,"

"I'm sorry," he said. She shook her head and stared across his chest, into the fire place.

"It was so long ago...or so it feels." She pulled her arm tighter around him. "Everything has changed so much, and for what?"

"I don't know," Gendry answered.

"All for some ugly chair and the power to tell people how to live," Sansa sat up and reached over him for a skinnier stick poking out of the pile. Arm outstretched, she began to draw designs into the ashes by the fire.

"Eryn," he said, sitting up slowly and grasping her wrist. Sansa stopped her mindless doodling and looked at him. "or whatever your name is," he said before she could correct him. "what are you doing here?"

Sansa opened her mouth to answer, and then fell silent. What was she doing here? Sneaking out, whoring herself to a blacksmith in exchange for jewelry repair and the possibility to escape the confines of her mind? No, there was something more that had drawn her back. She turned from the fire and looked around the two room roof was starting to cave in by the back corner, and the walls swayed when a sharp wind whipped through. Sansa didn't doubt that if someone had seen her, they could easily break down the door and take her away, unlike Winterfell, where guards stood watch all hours of the day. But here she was.

She felt his hand reach for hers, rubbing his thumb across the top. Sansa closed her eyes and felt her thoughts slow.

"I haven't felt safe in a while," she answered finally. "Being here makes me feel safe." She looked up and looked into his eyes. He softened then, and pushed himself up off the floor. He reached down for her hand, and pulled her up with him.

"That's a good enough answer for me," he said leading her to the bed. He crawling in, placing himself against the wall. He opened his arms, gesturing for her to come in closer. She pulled up the blanket and situated herself against him, exhaling when his arm fell across her body, holding her against him. The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was watching the fire slowly die, and Gendry's breath tickling her ear.

...

Leaving in the morning had been a quick affair. Gendry was up as soon as the rooster cawed, and had to shake his bed partner awake.

"It's nearly dawn," he said.

"Oh, are you sure? Last time I was told the rooster was blind and that I had a terrible illness. As I recall, you promised a cure," she reached out and grabbed his hand. He brought his lips down to her knuckles.

"Next time," he promised. Sansa pushed herself from the bed, and began collecting her things. Gendry buttoned her back into her dress, which had become covered in ashes under their fumblings by the fire place, and had tried to brush her off before she left.

"Don't worry," she said, pushing him away so she could fasten her cload around her neck. She pulled the hood up. "No one will care how some strange woman crawling out of the Smith's home keeps her clothes,"

Gendry followed her out and, as promised, Osha stood at the gate on her mount. Her eyebrows slightly raised when she saw the man following Sansa out, but kept her mouth shut. Sansa turned.

"I'll have to be going," she said. He nodded and reached out to squeeze her hand. "I'll come back sometime soon. A week," she promised.

Gendry laughed.

"A mysterious woman who comes and goes as she pleases. Might as well have gotten a cat."

Sansa reached up, and turned his face to meet her's.

"When we see each other again," she said, looking into his eyes. "I'll tell you anything you want to know. Until then," she pulled him down for a kiss. When he pulled away, she smiled.

"Soon," she promised.

"Soon," he said, and watched her climb up her mount.

Osha remained quiet about what she had seen the rest of the trip back, which Sansa appriciated. The last thing she wanted to do was explain the strange tangle of thorns she had fallen into over the past month. When they arrived at the castle gates, Osha signaled again and the gate was opened with no questions. The two returned to the stables and fed the horses, latching them in their stalls.

"Thank you," Sansa told her before they entered the hall. Osha turned to her, and reached up to squeeze her shoulder. She offered Sansa a quick smile.

"Of course," she said.

...

"Sansa," Bran called her out of her trance. Looking up from the letter she had been crafting a response to, she saw her brother's expectant face.

"Yes?" she asked.

"You have an appointment, down in the training yards." he said. "The Queensguard."

"Now?"

"They're lining up as we speak."

Sansa rose from the table and pulled her furs from the rack she had thrown them on hours earlier.

"What's expected of me?"

"It's a formality more than anything," Bran said. "Building the relationship between you and those who protect you. Ooh and ahh at their tricks and shiny armor, and then you'll be back to letter writing."

Sansa nodded, and pushed her papers into something remotely resembling a pile. She followed her brother through the doorway and out into the courtyard.

The men were still fixing the remaining armor into place, and swishing their swords through the air like boys. One must have seen her because he snapped to attention.

"Queen Sansa!" he cried, and the rest of the men behind him quickly fell into a swift military mindset. They straightened their backs and held their swords up to the sky.

The look like statues.

"At ease, gentlemen," Sansa said. The men showed little sign of relaxing.

The instructor she had seen in the ring earlier that evening, who she would learn to call Ser Carrick, approached her.

"Your Grace," he bowed slightly. Sansa nodded and smiled.

"What fine men you have here," she said, loud enough for the men behind him to hear.

"Hmmpf. Well, I suppose they're not all terrible," he sighed, scanning his eyes over the lot. "Green as spring, most of them. But they show promise." He gestured to have her walk down the rows with him. "I expect within a few months these men will be ready to serve you, and more are signing up every day. You're quite the popular leader, Your Grace."

Sansa nodded as she continued down the rows. Near the back, some men were still pulling on their armor, comparing the fit, and speaking to someone who was working in the barracks.

"Ah, but what is a good Queensguard without proper armor?"Ser Carrick smiled. His head turned to the figure leaving the room, carrying a chest plate over their head. "Your Grace, Gendry Waters. Perhaps the finest blacksmith in all of the Seven Kingdoms." Ser Carrick pulled the chest plate from him, allowing Sansa to see his 'professional' face, mere moments before he recognized who was in front of him.

"Gendry Waters, may I present to you Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell and Queen of the North."


	5. Chapter Five

Once the door was open, Sansa scooped up her letters from the table and brought them up to her room, ignoring Bran's questioning look. When she finally got to her chambers and pushed the door closed, she dropped the parchment and ink bottle and slid her back down her wall. She let out a breath that she could have sworn she had been holding since he showed his face.

There had been a noticeable pause after as Gendry took her in, his face only flinching slightly as he realized he knew the woman standing in front of him. Sansa straightened her back out.

"You've done fine work ser," she said, trying to force a small smile. "We are very lucky to have you."

"It's an honor to be of service to Your Grace," he said. The venom in his voice was lost on Ser Carrick.

Sansa's throat tightened.

"The honor is ours," she replied. He broke their eye contact and looked down at the piece he held.

"Yours, Ser." he held up to Carrick. Before he could reply, a shout rang out from behind them. Their heads whipped around.

"You fucking bastard!" one of the trainees yelled, holding his jaw. His sparring partner dropped his sword.

"I didn't mean to-"

Before he could finish, his victim lunged at him, and punched him across the face. The other boys dropped their swords and crowded around in a circle to watch.

"Oh bloody hell," Ser Carrick huffed. "If you'll excuse me." He strode over and began pushing through the throng of his charges.

Sansa turned her attention back to Gendry.

"Gendry-" she started softly.

"If you'll excuse me, Your Grace." Gendry nodded and began to turn.

"Stop," Sansa commanded. He paused and looked back at her. She tried to hold on to her queenly composure. "Follow me," she said and turned to walk.

She refused to turn her head back and see if he was following, but after a few paces, she heard his footsteps begin to fall in with hers. She smiled to herself and held her shoulders back. Sansa led him down through the crypts, stopping after she was satisfied that no one would hear them. She finally turned around and looked at him. His eyes were trained on the floor, his jaw set in quiet anger.

"I was going to tell you," she said.

"When?"

She looked down at her gloves.

"I-"

"When were you going to tell me that I was rutting my fingers into the Queen - the fucking Queen - like an animal in a dirty shack?"

His face twisted into a sneer.

"Gendry,"

"This is what your lot does." he spat. He began to pace around. "Get your fun and then leave whatever low born you had to pick up the pieces."

"That's not true!" Sansa snapped.

"Yeah then what is? Not exactly a paragon of honesty, are you?"

She sighed and let her head fall down. A beat passed.

"Right. Well if you ever need any jewelry fixed, I hear there's a good shop in the Vale." He made to turn and walk back to the exit before Sansa spoke up.

"I spent a year with the Tyrells." she closed her eyes. "An entire year they treated me like a bitch in a kennel. All because of my family's name." She opened her eyes and saw him still standing in front of her, looking her over. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. When she spoke, her voice cracked.

"I don't want to be Sansa Stark anymore. All the pain and pity it carries..." she shook her head and ran the back of her gloved hand against her eyes. She collected herself and held her head up high.

"I didn't lie to you to hurt you. I lied because I wanted to ride into town by myself. And then... I wanted to kiss a handsome man who didn't see me as this...thing to conquer or protect. Don't you understand?"

He exhaled and looked down at his feet.

"I know it wasn't fair to you," She said. He looked up at her. "and I'm sorry. But I meant what I said. I felt safe with you. Feel safe with you." She stepped a bit closer.

"Gendry,"

He looked up.

"Please," she whispered.

He sighed.

"I'm not a plaything," he said. "Lowborn and highborn don't mix. I won't sneak around to see you."

"Then don't."

Gendry's eye brows shot up. "Oh?"

She bit her lip. Oh fuck. I didn't plan this far.

"Don't sneak around."

"And how do you propose that work?" he asked. "Just ride up every night with flowers at the gate and ask to please be let into the Queen's bed chamber?"

"The ride's a bit long," Sansa smiled. "It'd be a much quicker trip if you lived in Winterfell."

Gendry was visibly taken aback.

"I'm sorry?"

"I need a smith. This castle is the base of the North's armies, treasury, and government. I need a smith who I can trust to make good equipment so my people are protected. You've already proven yourself today."

Gendry stared at her in shock.

"I'm not going to be your kept boy," he sneered.

"The offer stands no matter our relationship," she said.

"Then why offer this? Now?" he said, holding his arms out.

"Because it saves me the parchment," she shot back.

He looked around the crypts, and brought his hand up to his chin, running over the stubble.

"Unbelievable," he sighed.

"I've thought about this a long time," she lied.

He didn't respond.

"I've been in your home, remember?" she said. She focused on the torch flickering on the wall behind him, too embarrassed to look at him directly. He stiffened. "The boards are old, Gendry. The first snowfall will come and the roof will cave in within a week. The forge here has a fireplace and a real roof. If you stay where you are, you won't survive the winter." She felt her throat tighten as she finished.

He still didn't look at her.

"And what happens when you get sick of looking at me?"

"I guarantee you employment until you wish to find work somewhere else."

He finally met her gaze.

"What happens when you get married? What if your husband decides to bring his own men?"

"I'm not." she said.

He rolled his eyes.

"Sure,"

Sansa's face tightened. She closed the space between them and angled her chin up at him.

"I'm not," she sneered, daring him to break eye contact.

"You'll change your mind, want some heirs to fill the halls-"

"Then I'll have bastards!" she spat. "And the north will be run by the whore queen and her bastard heirs! And then when the whore queen dies, bastards will rule the north!" She took in a shallow breath and tried to contain her emotions from cracking her voice. "I will die before I ever let a man tell me who I am again."

She stepped back away from him.

"Names and titles aren't real," she sighed. "and they certainly don't indicate honor. I will fulfill my duty as Queen and see that my people are fed and protected. Anything beyond that is no one's concern."

She waited for him to reply. The crypt's fires crackled in the silence.

Finally, he spoke.

"I'll take the job," he said. "But, Sansa...I'm not...I'm not fit for," he looked up, trying to find his words. "I'm too bloody low-born." he looked at her, his eyes were glassy. "I just...I can't. Not to you."

Sansa felt her breath hitch in her chest.

"Very well. I'll inform Ser Carrick of your decision." she strode past him, determined not to let him see her cry.

"Sansa-"

"And another thing," she turned back to him. "You never did anything to me." with that, she walked without looking back, her boot steps echoing against the stones.

...

He had moved into the forge a week later.

Sansa had watched from the window in the library as he unloaded his few possessions into the small room off of the forge. When he had finished, he immediately began working on Ser Carrick's next request. Osha found her watching him, hunched behind the sil and stealing looks at his shirtless body like a curious school girl. When she cleared her throat, Sansa swiveled her head and turned a bright pink.

"I-"

"Yeah," Osha smiled. She nodded to the window. "Pretty one, innit he? No wonder you wanted to stay all night. Those arms..."

Sansa stood immediately and hurried away.

"If you'll excuse me, I have some business to attend to." she sputtered.

You're embarrassing yourself for nothing. Stupid. Idiot. He doesn't want to see you anymore, stop mooning over him like a child.

Sansa went out of her way to avoid running into the smith. She took the long way to the dining hall rather than walk past the forge, and would always dismiss herself when he entered a room. On the rare occasion that she had to speak with him, he kept his answers short.

"Yes, Your Grace,"

"Thank you, Your Grace."

"It will be done, Your Grace."

Sansa wanted to pull her hair out. However, even as she promised herself she would rid him from her mind, she found herself going back to her perch by the library window. Sometimes he would just be working and she would watch, hypnotized, as his hammer came down on whatever poor sword or shield balanced on the anvil. Other times, he would be talking with the guards, the new recruits, or the servants, laughing with them and playing with their children. Some days, he wasn't in the forge at all, and Sansa would sit by the window, half-heartedly answering letters of listening to Bran's updates, waiting until she saw his mop of black hair emerge the sides of her vision. Sansa could sit there for hours just watching him work. She had been good about ducking behind the wall quickly whenever he looked up, but now that months had passed and her hair was finally past her chin, she worried some would have stuck out and given her away like a giant red flag. But his eyes never caught hers, and Sansa continued to sneak off in between meetings and meals to perch at her window and watch the day go by.

It may have gone on like this had Sansa not brought up Arya.

It was months later, and Sansa woke up with Arya on her mind. Her name day. Throughout the day, Sansa's mind wandered in and out of conversations, caught up in the memories of the last time she had seen her sister. How long ago had it been? Before making her way to the stairs for supper, she paused at the room they used to share. She reached out and ran her fingers down the wood, remembering how many times she had locked Arya out to gossip in peace with Jeyne. Her little hands had banged on the door until Sansa finally opened it an hour later and found her sister curled up in a ball fast asleep. Arya. Arya. I'm sorry. I want you back. She let her fingers fall from the door, and took a deep breath. Reluctantly, she turned towards the stairs.

Moments later when she entered the dining hall for supper, she saw Rickon and Bran eating in silence. She knew then that she had not been mourning alone.

"We should have had hot cakes," Sansa said cheerily, reaching for a small roll of bread. "Arya's favorites."

Bran smiled. "With a big slab of butter on each one."

Sansa smiled back at her brother and settled in her seat. They had their supper in silence, and it was only when their plates had been cleared away that Sansa asked.

"Do you suppose she made it out of King's Landing?" Sansa asked. "I don't remember seeing her after Father..." she trailed off. "I know the Lannister's didn't get her. I take comfort in that."

Bran and Rickon exchanged a glance.

"...What?" she asked.

"We didn't want to upset you" Bran answered quickly. "It was a while ago."

Sansa's fist tightened.

Oh gods. They found her dead.

"Gendry saw Arya on the road," Rickon said. "They separated after he joined the Brotherhood Without Banners."

"Rickon!" Bran snapped.

"It's true. They separated after he joined the Brotherhood Without Banners. He said."

Sansa sat dumbfounded for a moment.

Suddenly, with a loud screech, she pushed her chair back and made for the door.

"Where are you going?" Bran cried out. Sansa ignored him and let the door swing shut with a satisfying CRACK behind her. Ignoring the cold, she bounded onto the path to the forge.

He saw her coming before she could say anything. He had been inspecting one of the swords he had just finished and began to wrap it in oilcloth.

"Your Grace," he said, cinching the tie around the bundle.

"We need to speak," Sansa seethed. Gendry didn't move. Sansa pushed past him and into the small room off the forge and beckoned for him to follow. After a beat, he left the sword on the table, and followed her in, closing the door behind him.

The room was larger than Sansa had remembered, but it was sparsely furnished. A table and chair sat in one corner, while is mattress was pushed up against the far left corner. A few books were scattered here and there by the fire place, which was casting a warm orange light around the room. Sansa's hair seemed to glow.

When she heard the door latch, Sansa turned around.

"Why didn't you tell me about her?"

He shrugged.

"Can't tell you if I never see you," he sighed.

"You see me enough!" she snapped. She felt tears well up in her eyes. "You are the one who didn't want to continue on."

"It's the decent thing to do," he huffed.

"No the decent thing to do would be telling me my sister was alive the minute you knew who I really was!" She jabbed a finger in his face.

"Decent like peeking out of windows and watching a man work?" he snapped back.

Sansa's mouth fell open and she felt the color drain from her face.

"I-"

"I see you, you're not as slick as you think." he snapped. "What? Do you not trust me?"

Sansa balked.

"Of course I trust you!"

"Then why do you watch me? Sitting up there like a hawk?" he yelled back.

Sansa opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself. What could she say that wouldn't strip away the queenly air she had built up as a defense? No, he had already rejected her. She would not be rejected again.

"If you have any more information about my sister, please tell me. I'll stay out of your way otherwise," she made for the door handle, expecting him to push off and let her through. He didn't.

"Why do you watch me, Sansa?" he sighed.

"Please," she felt tears well up in her eyes. I don't want to cry in front of you. "Just let me through." She yanked on the door handle and felt a droplet fall from her eyes.

"Sansa," his voice was soft. "Answer me."

Sansa pulled on the door again and again. Finally, she put her palms to her eyes and pushed against them hard. When she had regained composure, she met his gaze.

"Did you think I was lying when I said you made me feel safe?"

He didn't say anything. She pulled at the door handle again, and when he refused to move, offered further explanation.

"If I can't be with you," she sighed. "Then at least know you're here. My head gets too crowded sometimes, with all the...things." she waved her hand around. She opened her eyes and looked into his. "You make them stop."

A beat passed between them. Sansa waited for him to say something, to fall to his knees and forgive her or open the door and push her out. Anything besides just standing there, looking at her like he was. She scanned his face for any sign of emotion. When he didn't move, she reached for the door handle again.

He caught her hand.

She felt him put his hands on her shoulders, and slowly switch their positions. She the metal bolts of the door pressed into her back.

He reached down and wiped one of her tears away with his thumb, leaving a trail of soot against her skin. She brought her hand up to his and held it against her face. He dropped his face to hers and kissed her.

He had intended it to be a chaste kiss, but somehow her mouth was open and his hands were holding her waist against the door. She was breathing in sharp little intakes, raking her nails through his hair and down along his stubble. Breaking the kiss, he trailed kisses down her neck and listened as she took in a sweet little breath.

"Do you know how hard it is to see you in that window every day?" he breathed against her collar bone. She shook her head.

She shook her head.

"No," she whispered.

"Every time I see you watching me work," he lifted her against the door, grinding his hips into hers. She squeaked. "all I can think about is putting you over my work bench." She reached down and brought his face up, kissing him. He reached up and cradled the back of her head, pulling her in closer and giving her hair a small tug. She smiled against his lips. She smelled like lavender and cold wind. Gendry broke the kiss and looked down into her eyes. Half lidded, they seemed to smile up at , she brought her fingers under his chin and brought him in for a small, soft kiss.

Queen Sansa Stark of the North and he was pressing her up against his door like a common whore. She should have slapped him for being so forward and brutish. What had he done to her?

Gendry pulled away and buried his head in her chest.

"You shouldn't be here," he growled. Sansa gently ran her fingers along his jaw and brought his face up to her's. His eyes were dark.

"I am here," she said.

Safe. She feels safe with him.

He smiled.

"So you are," he whispered. He closed his eyes and pressed against her, nuzzling his face against where her neck met shoulder. Sansa inhaled deeply and jostled out of his hold. Gendry's eyes followed her and she went to stand in front of the fire and turned to him.

"Will you get my dress?"

He walked behind her and began to tug at the buttons of the dress. Sansa closed her eyes as he picked and pulled at the fabric against her, moving down her spine with each small snap. Once it was loose enough she stepped out of it, and she stood in front of him in her shift. Slowly, she reached down and brought it over her head and dropped it to the floor. Carefully, she pulled her small clothes down as well. She kicked them over by his bed and stood in front of him.

"Will you take me to bed?" she asked shyly.

His eyes raked down her body.

"You're a maiden," he said, turning away, ashamed as if he had just invaded her privacy.

"I heard some men preferred that," she quipped.

Gendry bit his lip.

"Gendry," she said. "I'm here."

He took a small step forward. Their eyes locked.

"Is this truly what you want?" he asked. "To get fucked by a low born bastard on a dirty straw mattress?"

She took a step closer to him and reached out to begin pulling his trouser's laces with one hand.

"Yes," she said. And she brought his mouth down to her's.

They wouldn't make it to the straw mattress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnndd now I've uploaded all the chapters I've had on ff.net. Ao3 is all caught up! Leave ya girl a review if you like


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW ahead. Mentions of forced sexual acts.  
> Then some really enthusiastic consensual sexual acts.

What had the old saying been?   
Lie back and think of Westeros?

Sansa tried to remember the phrase the septas had told her before that Lannister wedding long, long ago. Sex was a duty she was expected to do for the good of the family. All those stitching and dance lessons and yards and yards of fabric for pretty dresses and sheets all came down to that - enduring the moments when your Lord husband would climb atop you and tear you apart. If you were lucky, nine months later, another man would exit you, his passage marked by blood. All of her life, she had prepared for the men who would make her body a temporary home, until life of lust called them away from her. This is what mothers did. This is what wives did. 

Sansa was neither.

Once the laces were loose enough, she dropped her hand into the front of his trousers and grasped him. He let out a small breath before she turned his face back to her. Rough hands grasped her back. Sansa smiled against his lips and began to kiss her way down his throat. She ran her fingernails up his torso, pushing the hem of his shirt up as she scratched his stomach lightly. Taking the hint, he reached behind him and pulled the collar over the back of his head. Hurriedly, he threw it into a random corner and returned his attention to the woman in front of him. She placed her hands on either side of his face and pulled his mouth down to her's.

Somehow, Sansa got him against the wall by the door. Standing on her tiptoes to keep her mouth against his, she kept her hands on the hard sides of his waist. Gendry's hands fell down her back. 

 _Smoke. Sweat. Cold._ She memorized the smells of him as they swirled around her as he began to kiss her neck. She bit her lip.  _He tastes like metal and ice and home._ Sansa ran her tongue under her front teeth.  _Nothing like those men. The ones who tasted like dying flowers and bile._  She pressed her face into the crux of his neck, breathing him in. He was different. He was good. 

"Can I try something?" She breathed. She pulled back and looked into his eyes. His pupils were big. His hands held her wrists tightly as if he was afraid she would leave. 

"What?" he asked, his voice dazed. Sansa smiled, and before she could lose her nerve, started to lower herself to her knees. 

She hooked her hands around his waistband and began to tug down. Once his trousers were around his ankles, Sansa turned her attention back to his waist. Daintily, she wrapped her hand around him. 

"Can I put my mouth of you?" she asked, flicking her eyes up to his. Gendry let out an exasperated laugh. 

"Gods,  _yes._ " he smiled, covering his eyes with a hand. Sansa blushed, proud she had managed the courage to ask. She pushed herself again. 

"Gendry," she said, trying to make her voice sound more sultry. He lifted his hand from his eyes. 

"Look at me," she said. Keeping her eyes on his, she placed a soft open mouth kiss on his hip bone. She left another on his outer thigh. He groaned. Wetting her lips, Sansa opened her mouth and took the head between her lips, kissing it softly. His head fell against the wall. Wrapping one hand around him, she began to work her hand up and down, and took him into her mouth. 

It wasn't like the men who had held her down and forced her mouth open. Now, Sansa felt a strange sense of control. Here she was making a man who she had watched beat metal into submission, whimper above her with her mouth. Closing her eyes, Sansa took more of him in, tracing the bottom of his shaft up to the head with the tip of her tongue and she pulled back. Gendry's hand fisted in her hair. A memory flashed in Sansa's head. 

 _No. Not here. I'm safe here._ She dismissed it, wrapping her hands around his thigh and beginning to set a rhythm.

"Sansa," he whispered above her. Another hand came to rest on her head. She flicked her wrist into a twisting motion, and he let out a groan. She wanted to hear him say her name again. She kissed the tip of him sloppily before taking him in again. 

"Sansa!" 

she smiled before she realized that it wasn't Gendry who said it. 

Before Sansa could stop, the door beside them flung open, a figure standing right to her left. 

Gendry quickly yanked Sansa up and shielded her nudity with his body, pushing her behind him while he faced their intruder. 

 _Not like it matters,_ Sansa thought as she turned her head to face their visitor.  _The Queen of the North had been found on her naked knees sucking the blacksmith's cock._

Sansa peered over Gendry's shoulder and saw Osha trying to regain her composure and hide her smile. 

"Your Grace," she managed, closing the door behind her. 

"The hell do you think you are walking into my shop without-" Gendry began before Osha interrupted.

"There's a fire in the village," she said, looking directly at Sansa as she peered over Gendry's shoulder. One of Gendry's hands was still grasping at her side protectively, keeping her behind him. "It's spreading to the grainery. We need orders." 

Sansa pushed out from behind Gendry. Osha's eyes didn't drop from hers despite the Queen's nakedness. Quickly, Sansa bent down and pulled her shift over her head. 

"Find all available men and women in Winterfell and begin to load the horses," she said, stepping into her dress. "Any water we have should be loaded into wagons. Pails, too. I'll find my brothers and meet you at the stables in five minutes," 

Osha nodded and turned to exit, but not before winking at Gendry, who still stood stark naked with his trousers around his ankles. He flushed pink. 

Once the door was closed, he walked to Sansa and began buttoning up her dress. 

"Will you come?" she asked. He groaned. She giggled. 

"Yes," he answered. She turned around after the last button had been done and pressed her lips against his. 

Sansa moved past him, out the door and into the snowy night. 

 

.........................

 

When Sansa arrived in the village, she immediately rode her horse to the center of the town where the citizens were passing buckets back and forth from the well and out toward the ever spreading fire. The snow had not yet reached the town, and Sansa looked impatiently back at the storm, wishing it would hurry and blow south. The fire had managed to stop short of the granary, but three of the houses in the main village still blazed. Sansa slid off her horse and made for the mass of people running between the center well and the blazing buildings. Sansa picked up one of the forgotten buckets that lay on it's side in the dirt and reached into the well to fill it. Once there was enough, she joined the chaotic system that was running water to and fro. 

By the time Bran and Rickon had arrived with wagons full of Winterfell volunteers and casks of liquid, one of the houses was a charged outline of what it once was. Sansa's hands we raw from clutching the wet rusted handle of her bucket. From the corner of her eye, she saw Gendry leap from one of the wagons with a shovel, followed by other men from Winterfell, and watched as they began to shovel the pile of snow in the back of one of the wagons and fling it onto the flames. A larger tank on another wagon was opened, and people descended upon it to fill their buckets to keep fighting the fire.

It was another three hours until the fire was out. When Sansa could finally calm herself, she realized her dress was soaked with water and mud. Dropping the bucket to her feet, she felt how her cramped fingers refused to stretch out. 

Bran sat on one of the wagons in his chair, talking to an older man. Sansa approached the two of them.

"-as you will see, Ser Lawson, Her Grace  _is_ here," Bran gestured to Sansa, who stood dripping beside them. The man turned his attention to her, and his eyebrows immediately shot up. 

"Your Grace!" he said. "My apologies, had I known it was you who had arrived-"

"No need for an apology," Sansa smiled sweetly. "In fact, I believe I must beg your pardons. This is the first time we've met," she extended a hand to him. "Sansa Stark," she said. 

He grasped her hand, and brought her knuckles to his lips. "Aeron Lawson, Your Grace."

"Pleasure to finally make your aquaintance, Ser Lawson." Sansa turned her head to consider the charred outlines of the homes. 

"How many have lost their home tonight?"

"Four families, Your Grace." Ser Lawson said. He pointed over to a cluster of adults and children who stood far off to the side. Some were weeping and being comforted by their friends. The children for there part seemed wholly oblivious to their home's ruin, and were excited for the adventure that had kept them up past their bed time. "I can begin asking around to see if anyone could take them on for the next few months,"

"No need," Sansa clipped. "We have plenty of rooms at Winterfell. Please inform them they will be my guests until their homes can be rebuilt." She turned to Bran. "I imagine the West Wing will be suitable?"

Bran nodded, and Sansa turned to Ser Lawson. 

"What else can I do?" she asked. 

"You've already done more than your share," he said, still flabbergasted that she had just so casually ordered that the common folk would be staying in her home.  "But I'm sure the people would appreciate hearing your kind words," 

Sansa nodded and pulled herself onto the wagon Bran had been perched on, Careful not to slip as she climbed onto one of the wooden barrels stacked behind him, she regained her balanced and adopted a queenly posture before speaking up. 

"Citizens of Winterfell," she called out. Her voice rang out over the chatter, and the town center quieted as more heads turned to look at her. With all of the eyes of her subjects upon her, Sansa gulped before continuing. 

"I apologize that we must be introduced under such appalling circumstances," she said finally. "But I wanted to let you know that I am not the Queen who will let her subjects face these disasters alone." She found Gendry's face in the crowd. He offered her a small smile. 

"Nor will I turn away once the initial danger has fled," she reluctantly broke eye contact with him, turning her attention back to the crowd. "Until these homes can be rebuilt, I welcome the displaced families to stay as my guests at Winterfell. My men will be here every day to assist with the cleanup and repair." she turned to look at the well. "In a weeks time, my council will have a proposal for a new municipal water storage system, so that future incidents may not escalate so," she turned back to her subjects.

"I want to thank you for your quick action in securing the safety of our people. I want to thank you for battling fire and ice for our community." she took in a deep breath and watched the cloud puff out. "The North is strong not because of the letters I write or the throne I sit on. It is strong because of the men and women who band together in times of great need or great celebration. You inspire me to be a better a ruler, a better neighbor, and a better Northerner." she turned to her brother. "If anyone should need anything, please follow our caravan back to the castle. We will provide for you." Sansa scanned her mind quickly, trying to remember any crucial bits of information she could have forgotten. 

"Thank you again for continuing to fufill our country's greatest point of pride. The North takes care of their own." The crowd before her whooped as she climbed down. As soon as her boots touched the dirt, she was swarmed on all sides.

On the way back, Sansa walked among her subjects, declining to ride her horse back or ride in the wagon. She imagined Margery in King's Landing, sitting with the commoners and talking lovingly to their children. 

 _Margery._ Sansa held no hatred towards the girl, but the circustances of her capture had made her reluctant to reach out to the woman. As a small girl grasped Sansa's hand, she wondered how the flower princess was coping with her queenship.

 _At least we agree on one thing,_ Sansa thought, squeezing the young girl's hand back.  _We want them to love us. And we want to love them._

...................

Sansa didn't see Gendry again until nearly sunrise. She had been in the great hall all night, making sure all those who came back had their grievances heard and stomachs filled. As she finished discussing the possibility of constructing an emergency water tank with Ser Lawson, Sansa noticed that the hall had emptied. Osha stood by the door yawning, watching her Queen finish her discussion. Outside, the light was soft. 

"I should return," Ser Lawson said, picking up the parchment that he and the Queen had been bent over for the past half hour. "I'll take these prints to the builders in town."

Sansa nodded. "Our next lumber shipment will be sent directly to the town center. Expect it within a week, if not sooner."

He nodded. "Thank you again, Your Grace."

"it's my job to make sure my people are cared for," she walked him to the door. "That includes you, Ser Lawson. Should you need a place to sleep before returning to town-"

"Thank you, but I should be fine. My home was unscathed, and my wife is probably worried about me." He smiled before bowing slightly. 

"Until I see you again," he said. She nodded and watched himn leave. Once the door was closed, she let herself fall against the stone wall. 

"You should get some rest," Osha said. "Come on, then." she reached out and looped her arm through Sansa's, leading her down the hall. 

Sansa rubbed her eyes as she let Osha lead her. 

"He's an impressive one," Osha said suddenly. Sansa turned to her and saw Osha's smile widen. "Your boy."

Sansa's face flamed. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing this situation away. 

"Do you drink moon tea?" she asked. 

"No," Sansa said as if she had suddenly realized it herself. 

Osha patted the top of her hand. "Well, I'll see to it that a cup finds its way to your room at night."

Sansa stopped, her hand catching Osha's arm before she would keep walking. Osha turned around. 

"You've been so kind to me," Sansa said. "I haven't thanked you."

Osha smiled and tucked Sansa's arm back into hers. 

"I know how cruel men can be," Osha said as they began to walk. "And I know how it feels to want to escape. Speaking of," Osha nodded. Sansa followed her gaze to the man who stood outside of her chamber door. Osha stopped, and let her arm drop. 

"I believe I'll leave you in his capable hands," Osha winked at Sansa and gave Gendry a small wave. Sansa saw a bit of pink flush in his face. Once Osha had turned to walk back down the hallway, Sansa approached him. 

"Wanted to make sure you got some sleep," he tilted his head to the door. She smiled.

"Liar," she pushed the door open, and left it hanging for him to follow in. He made sure to check the latch fell. 

A copper bath had been left in the center of her room, filled with hot water. 

"Bran sent that," he said, her brother's natural name flowing from his mouth comfortably.  _No Ser Stark. No Lady Stark. Just Bran, Rickon, and Sansa._ "You should get out of those wet clothes before you catch something,"

She smiled at him. 

"Are you trying to seduce me, Ser Waters?"

"I'm trying to ensure you're alive to seduce later," he pushed off from his place on the wall and went around her back, slowly unbuttoning her dress and pulling the wet fabric down off her. Sansa stood in her shift as it clung to her. She was cold. She pulled the shift over her head.

"Go on," he pressed against the small of her back. 

She lifted a leg over the lip of the tub and then the other. The water was hot, but it stung in a good way. Slowly, she lowered herself in. Gendry sat down next to her, and dunked his hand into the water. 

"Get in with me" she said. 

"We'll turn the water black, between us." he reached down and picked up a washcloth and dunked it in the water. Softly, he ran it across her forehead. Pulling his hand back, he showed her the black soot that had come off. 

"I don't care," she said. 

"As the lady commands," he smiled, throwing the washcloth down into the water. He undressed quickly and climbed in behind her, pulling her against his back. 

He didn't lie. As they scrubbed off, the water became a dark, murky gray. When they were finally somewhat clean, Gendry climbed out of the tub and helped her out. She went over to her dresser and pulled a new shift from the drawer. Outside, the sun just peeked over the hill. 

"I'll let you sleep," he said once he had pulled his tunic and trousers back on. Sansa reached out and grasped his hand. 

"No," she said. "Stay." 

He turned to look at the door. 

"And what happens when your brother comes in to check on you? Walks in and sees us?"

"Then my brother needs to learn to knock. Intruding seems to be a nasty habit of all who inhabit this damn place." She pulled his hand towards the bed. She crawled on and patted the place beside her. 

After some hesitation, Gendry pulled his tunic over his head and dropped it on the floor. He crawled up and settled himself next to Sansa, who laid on her side, gazing at him. When he got comfortable, he flicked his eyes up to look at her. 

"You're a good Queen," he said, reaching out to trail his fingers along her arm. She reached up and brought his fingers to her mouth, kissing them lightly. Wordlessly, she tucked herself against him, his head resting on the top of her head. She breathed him in as he ran his fingers down her back. 

"When we wake up," she said, throwing her arm over his waist. "We're going right back to your room."

He chuckled and dropped his lips down to her forehead. 

"Go to sleep, Sansa." he said. "I'll be here when you wake up." 

Sansa believed him. Readjusting to rest her head on his bicep, Sansa closed her eyes. 

When she had him properly, she knew, Westeros would be the last thing on her mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, it just can't be that easy.  
> Loveeeeeeeee you.  
> (Review and let me know if you hate me for being a tease for six chapters).


	7. Chapter 7

Sansa woke up to a tickling on her nose.

She peeped an eye open and saw the offender running the ends of her hair over her nose like a brush. 

"What are you doing?" Sansa giggled. He smiled back and rubbed her cheek with the ends. 

"Your hair's gotten so much longer since I met you," he said, pushing the lock behind her ear. She smiled. 

"I quite like it short," She blew some of the looser strands out of her face. 

"However which way," he said, running his fingers through her hair on the side of her head. "It's beautiful." 

Sansa blushed. She pushed herself up and looked out the window. 

"How long did we sleep?" she asked. The sky outside was dark, and snow had begun to come down. 

"Whole day, I reckon." he rubbed his eyes and sat up. He reached out to Sansa, but she had begun crawling to the end of her bed.

"What are you doing?" he asked as she picked a simple linen dress from her dresser drawer. Stepping into it quickly, she pulled it up and let the laces fall loose. She wouldn't be gone long. 

"I'm going to the kitchens," she said, grabbing the cloak from the hook. "I'm starving," She smiled over at him. 

"Want to come?"

"No," he brought the furs up to his chin. "I'm perfectly comfortable." He wrapped himself in the fur and rolled over to her side of the bed. 

"Have fun in the cold, darling." he called as she made for the doors. 

 _Darling._ She smiled as she pulled the door closed behind her. 

 

They were cleaning up the kitchen when Sansa arrived, carefully pushing the back door open as not to let any snow in. The women's heads turned, ready to chastise whoever was interrupting their routine until they saw who it was. 

"Your Grace," they snapped to attention. Sansa smiled at them as she lowered her cloak hood. 

"Good evening, ladies." she smiled. 

"Oh dear," Millie, the older woman, begun to wring her hands. "I'm sorry Your Grace, your brother informed us you wouldn't be attending dinner. If I had known you'd be down, I would have sent someone up with some food-"

"Please don't fret," Sansa made for the store room. "I didn't plan on sleeping so long. Would it be alright if I just took some back to my room?"

"Of course!" Millie said, frantically searching below a table top for a basket. She handed one to Sansa, who smiled and thanked the woman. 

In the store room, Sansa pulled a few rolls of bread, some dried sausage, and a small block of hard, sharp cheese. She found a bottle of wine tucked away in the back and slipped it in with a two metal cups that sat on the shelf above. Just as she was about to leave, the smell of lemon wafted into her nose. Pulling back a small cloth, she found a small tray of lemon tarts. Sansa plucked two up and carefully put them into the basket, careful not to have the crust break. 

She thanked the women and begged their pardon for the inconvenience. On the walk back, she gazed up at the Wing her guests were staying in. Some of the lights were still on, and she could hear children's giggling. She smiled to herself and made a note to stop by the next day. They must think her a terrible hostess. 

Once she was back in the hallway, she half-heartedly shook the snow off of her before making for her chamber. Careful not to drop her haul, she balanced the basket on her hip and pushed the door open with her other hand. When she entered, a mass of fur sat up from the bed. The room was noticeably warmer, and Sansa saw that Gendry must have started a fire while she was running her errand. 

"She returns," he smiled, and let the furs drop from the hood he had formed around his head to his shoulders. Sansa put the basket on the floor and removed her cloak, and quickly shimmied out of her loose dress. In her shift, she picked the basket up again and placed it on the bed, crawling up after it. 

"Osha came by," Gendry said, a hint embarrassed. He reached over to the table beside her bed and retrieved a cup of tea. 

"What is it?" he took a sniff. 

"Moon tea," she said. She reached out and looped her finger through the handle, and brought the tea up to her lips. 

"Ah," Sansa saw a flush of red fill Gendry's cheeks momentarily. She gulped the contents of the tea down, trying to ignore the metallic aftertaste. 

"Blegh," she stuck her tongue out before letting the tea cup fall to the bed. 

"What did you bring back from the war, then?" he said, his fingers reaching out to touch the basket. Sansa smiled and pulled the basket onto her lap and began to unpack. 

"Well," Sansa pulled a napkin from the basket and lay it between them. "I raided a Dothraki settlement and found some horsemeat sausage," she pulled the links out, holding them up and letting them dangle triumphantly. She dropped it onto the napkin. "Then," she pulled out the cheese. "I sailed to Kings Landing and made a trade deal with Jon - three new trading posts on our borders for a block of cheese," She unfolded the cloth and held the cheese up for inspection, before placing it by the sausage on the napkin. "After," she pulled the bottle of wine. "I slaughtered a vineyard and mashed its inhabitants into a bottle," 

"My Warrior Queen," Gendry reached out and took the bottle from her hand. He began fiddling with the cork as she pulled the rolls out from the basket. 

"And lastly," she smiled as she carefully pulled the tarts from the basket, placing them on the bed. "Lemon tarts."

Gendry smiled. 

"Did you get a knife?" he asked. 

Sansa paused. 

"Shit!"

Gendry laughed and pushed himself up on his knees to move off the bed. Before he did, he placed a kiss on her forehead. 

"The limits of the monarchy," he said as he reached into his shirt pocket. He flipped open a small blade and tossed it lightly onto the napkin. 

"It's this quick thinking," she began to cut the sausage into small disks. "that makes you the best smith Winterfell has ever had."

"Oh really?" he pulled himself up onto the bed. "Is that all?"

Sansa blushed and continued to cut up the meat. "Well..." 

Gendry smiled smugly, and reached over to the table for the bottle of wine. He pulled the cork out, and satisfying  _pop!_ quietly rang out. He reached into the basket and pulled the two cups, filling both of them. He handed one to Sansa, who took a sip immediately. 

"So, you like lemon cakes." he said, taking a drink. "It occurs to me I don't know much more about you,"

Sansa smiled a bit. 

"Well, you know that one thing,"

Gendry rolled his eyes.

"You'll not distract me again, witch woman." Sansa looked up at him and smiled in spite of herself. She wiggled her fingers at him like a sorceress, and let out a soft "oooooh". 

"Tell me something," he said.

"What do you want to know?" she said, biting into the small sausage cheese and bread stack she had fashioned. Gendry reached out and took some sausage in his big hand. He popped one in his mouth while he thought. 

"How about this," she said, covering her mouth as she chewed. "You ask and I'll answer. And we'll go back and forth."

He smiled. "Alright," he bit into the other slice of sausage. "Let's start out easy, then. Favorite color?"

Sansa rolled her eyes, but couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her face. 

"Lilac," she said. "You?"

He watched her as she waited for his answer. She took a sip of her wine, keeping her gaze fixed upon him. 

"I dunno," he said. A small smirk. "What would you call the color of your eyes?"

Sansa closed her eyes, simultaneously groaning at his response and quietly reveling in the fact that someone had said something to her so disgustingly romantic it could have been in one of her books. 

"Sorry," he laughed. He reached out and grabbed some more bread. "It's true though. They're blue. Like deep sea water."

Sansa opened her eyes when she was sure she wasn't blushing like crazy. When their eyes met, he winked at her before biting into another stack on his bread. 

"What's your favorite memory?" she said. He laughed. 

"No easy ones for you, I see." he looked up at the ceiling, placing his hands on his knees. Sansa's eyes ran down his torso, following the coarse black hair until it disappeared under his waistband. She bit hard into the bread. 

"There was one day," he looked back down, having retrieved his answer from whatever confines of memory the ceiling had allowed him to access. "My mother was still alive. She didn't have to work that day, and I just a little one. She woke me up early and we paid a man with a wagon to take us out of King's Landing. Once we were out, she led me down a path through the forest and showed me a swimming hole she used to go to as a girl," His eyes seemed far away, as if he was experiencing it all again. "We spent the day there. She had wanted to teach me to swim for a while, but she hated salt water. By the end of the day she would take me on her back and jump off the highest boulder, and we would plunge into the water. I wasn't scared because I knew she wouldn't let me drown. Even when we hit the bottom, and I felt her feet push off the ground, and we shot up to the surface. I must have begged her to take me down there again for a year after that, but we never could," his face fell a bit, saddened. "But that's probably it." Before Sansa could reach out to comfort him, he looked up and offered her what she knew was a performative smile. 

"When you were younger, and you would play," he started. "What were you?"

Sansa bit her nail and tried to remember play sessions that seemed a millennium ago. Flashes of bright snow, giggles, and running feet all came to her mind. 

"I would always want to be the princess," she remembered. "Arya would be my knight, and Bran would be my scout. He would climb up the walls looking for adversaries, and Arya would pretend to tackle any enemies. One time, we came upon Jon and Robb training, and Arya jumped in between them, trying to fight them both off to protect me." she smiled, remembering Arya's small but determined body jumping between the two boys. 

"Always knew what you wanted to be, eh?" 

A memory came to Sansa then. 

"I think my favorite, though," she said, looking down at her hands. "Was when we were little, Arya and I shared a bed. On the nights we couldn't sleep, we would pretend the bed was a boat and the floor was an ocean. We would grab our blankets," she took a fistful of the fur on the bed, as if to illustrate a point. "And One of us would hold them up as the sail, while the other steered. We'd always be going through storms, and we'd fall over each other. We said the pillows were fish, and sometimes we would attack the other with one. 'A fish is in the boat!' and then, smack!" she clapped her hands. "Mother would find us sometimes and chastise us for staying up so late, but we kept doing it. Falling into giggling heaps after she left." Sansa ran her hand down the fur, feeling the bristles part for her nails. Arya. 

Gendry carefully folded the food into the basket and placed it on the ground. Thinking he was going to try and comfort her, Sansa looked up, only to have a pillow come crashing down on her head playfully.

"Fish jumped up," he said. "Sorry, m'lady."

"Sorry?" Sansa said, letting her queenly voice take over. Gendry's face fell. 

"I didn't mean to-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Sansa brought the pillow she had been leaning on over her head and smacked him across the face. Realizing what had just happened, he turned to his giggling bedfellow.

"Right," he said, reaching out to the top of the bed and grabbing another pillow. "You'll pay for that," 

Sansa giggled and jumped up, standing on the bed. She reached down and brought the covers up just before Gendry could swing his pillow at her legs. She pushed one hand against the blanket, tenting it against her.

"Ser Gendry," she said. "It looks like we're heading for a storm."

"Aye?" he said. He scooted to the front of the bed, and made a show off looking out over the expanse of her room. "Well, Lady Sansa, I believe you're right. I hope that - woah!" He lifted the corner of the bed and let it drop. He fell over in an exaggerated pose. 

"Quick, for shelter!" She brought the fur down over them, and the suddenly everything was dark. Sansa pushed the furs up, letting a little light into the small shelter she had made. She saw Gendry smiling up at her. 

"How long do you think the storm will be?" he asked innocently. 

"Hours," Sansa said. "Days. Possibly weeks. We should stay here. For protection." 

Gendry smiled and reached out from under the covers. He pulled one of the extra slats that Sansa kept under her bed and placed it in the middle of them so Sansa wouldn't have to hold up the fur. Then, he reached to the end table and handed her the bottle of wine, forgetting the cups they had left. Sansa wrapped her lips around it and took a gulp, and handed it back to him. 

"My turn," she said. she lay down on her stomach, looking up at him. He was perpendicular to her, their faces meeting in the far left corner of their small blanket tent. She smiled and reached out to stroke his face. "Tell me about Arya. On the road."

It went on like this for the next few hours. Gendry told Sansa of all the memories he would scrape from his mind about traveling with her sister, eager to give her every bit that she desired. Part of him wanted to make something up, tell her that he knew she was alive, just to see her smile. But his story ended with their parting, and he admitted he had not seen her since. When he finished his story, Sansa lay, looking up at him lazily, with a drunk smile on her face. Gendry held up the bottle of wine and realized they had drunk all of it. 

"She's alive still," she said finally. "I know it. Part of me...this is going to sound ridiculous, but part of me can feel it." she picked at her nails, embarassed by her claim. 

"When my mother died," Gendry said, reaching out and capturing her hands in one of his. "It felt like something between us had been severed. The minute she stopped breathing, I knew. Even as they tried to revive her." He squeezed her hands in his. 

Sansa's face gave a small smile before returning to its contemplative solemnity. 

"Can I ask another," she said. She looked up at him. Her eyes were so, so blue. 

"I believe that's breaking the rules," he playfully chided her. "But you are the queen."

She smiled before looking down at her hands, and then back up at him. 

"Why are you here?" she asked. His face contorted in confusion. 

"I believe there was an invitation of employment," he said. "not to mention certain events that took place last night that made me believe you'd like to see me again."

"I did- I do," she clarified before reaching up and running her fingers down his jaw. "But I mean...you're handsome. Clever. Good at what you do. Kind. Why spend your time with me? You could have any woman back in the North." She stopped and let her hand fall on his chest, feeling his heart beat under her touch. She kept her gaze focused on her hand. "Why me?"

Gendry reached up and covered her hand with his. 

"Why you?" he repeated. He ran his thumb over the top of her hand. "How can you ask something like that?"

"I just," she sighed and closed her eyes. "I'm not- I'm broken, you know? Scarred up here," she let her other hand fall to her side. "and..." she gestured to her head. "I just don't..."

"Hey," he said, bringing her attention back to him. She blinked, trying to hold water back. 

"You're asking me why I'm here," he said, letting his eyes drop to her lips. "but I can't tell you. Just like I can't tell you why the sun rises every day. You just...happened. And I thought, at first, when you were still  _Eryn_ ," he emphasized his voice when he said her old name, causing her to smile a bit. "that you were just trying to get your rocks off. But...I don't know. That first night, when we stopped," he flicked his thumb over her hand again. "I saw something in you, I suppose. It's like when...well I suppose it's like being under a blanket." he tapped the top of their tent. "You think you're not seeing anything because it's dark. But then a corner flies up, and some light comes in. And you just want to crawl to the edge and see what you've been missing hiding away all those years." he looked up at her. "I can't explain how I feel about you because I didn't choose it. It just happened. But I will say this." He sat up then, taking the slat from the middle and pulling it out, letting the covers fall. He dropped the slat to the side, and threw the covers back off over their heads. Sansa's eyes blinked in the sudden light as she felt Gendry pulling her up to sit. When they were both cross legged, knees bumping together, he tipped her head up to look into her eyes. 

"You're not broken," he said. "I've seen pretty much every inch of you, and I can't find any cracks. All I see," he ran his hand from under her chin and down her shoulder, trailing a path down her arm. "Is a woman who survived something horrible, and managed to come out the other side. How can you not see what I see?" he sighed, and let his hands fall on her knees. Sansa stayed quiet. "You're kind. And brilliant. And you're good to your people. I've never met a noble like you. You're brave, Sansa. And, it should go without saying, beautiful. Sometimes I wonder what you want with me. Every time I touch you, it feels like I'm running my hands over silk, or some other precious thing a man of my station would never be allowed to have." he smiled at her. "I think I should be asking you what you see in me," 

Sansa face softened, and she reached out to cup his face. He brought a hand up to cover hers and closed his eyes. 

"You're a good man, Gendry." she said. "So many people have wanted me to fill a gap in their plans...wife her to get the North. Use her to topple a kingdom. Lock her up and..." her voice broke a bit, and she felt a reassuring squeeze on her hand. "You're caring, and sensitive, and bright. And when I'm with you," she bit her lip. "I'm not in my head. I'm too wrapped up in you to think of the past. All I want to do is listen to you talk, or watch you work, or feel your hands on me," she said the last one quietly, a bit embarrassed. "Even when you're not around, I'm better. Because I know you're out there," she jerked her head to the wall, indicating the forge. "And I feel safe. Because I know if I need the demons to stop, all I have to do is go to you. And you'll quiet them. Just by being...you." 

He smiled up at her, and emboldened, she continued. 

"I don't mean to put that on your shoulders. You're not in charge of making sure I don't fall into my own darkness. But since I've been back, no one has made me forget the way you do. Bran doesn't know what to say. Osha is great, but she's not...she's not you. I feel like I've been in Winter for so long, and being with you takes me into Spring," she cringed, thinking of how much that sounded like one of her old story books. Gendry smiled and began to lay back. He pulled her down, and she settled her head on his chest. 

"Anytime it gets to be too much," he said, raking his fingers through her hair. "You can tell me. Or just come see me. Perch up on a work bench. Tell me about your day. Shitty meetings. Anything," he said. 

"Safe harbor," she smiled against him. 

"Yeah," he agreed, pulling her closer. They stayed silent for a bit, listening to the crackles of the slowly dying fire. Finally, Sansa lifted her head up and looked at him. 

"Will you tell me more stories?" she asked.

"What, like fairy tales?"

She shook her head. 

"I'm sick of fairy tales," she said. "Tell me more about you. Your mother."

He smiled softly at her. 

"Would you like to hear about my first apprenticeship? I was twelve years, maybe, and this old drunkard..."

Sansa let her head fall against his chest and listened as he continued on. The real world didn't have chivalrous knights or kind, mannerly princes to save her from a tower.

But it had him. 

And that was more than enough. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you want some fluff? Well HERE
> 
> They'll get steamy soon.


	8. Chapter Eight

When Sansa woke up, she didn't waste any time. In the soft blue light that was filling the room (not dawn yet, just enough time), Sansa slithered across the bed to where Gendry lay outstretched and half falling off the edge. She pressed a kiss on his neck. When he didn't wake, she pressed another. Then another. And another. Until she felt his groan vibrate in his throat. 

"Hmmpf," he said, his eyes clenching. Sansa smiled and pressed another kiss on his collar bone. 

"Wake up," she said quietly into his ear, before pressing a kiss just below the lobe. Gendry turned his head towards her, his eyes still stubbornly closed, and Sansa pulled his face in for a kiss, pressing her body up against his. She felt his sleepy hands reach around her waist, their grip tightening as he woke up. 

Not awake enough, it would seem. He pulled back and let his head fall on the pillow, and gave her a lazy smile.

"This bed," he said. "It's like sleeping on a cloud."

Sansa went in for another kiss, but Gendry made it quick and chaste. 

"Come on," she said. "We've got just enough time," she reached for the top of her shift. Looking up, Sansa saw that Gendry had fallen back asleep.

"No,  _no-_ " she shook him. One blue eye creaked open. 

"Gods, woman, let a man sleep," he said, reached a big arm out and scooping her into him. Sansa squirmed against him, causing him to hold her tighter. 

"But last night-,"

"I'll ravish you later," he said, dipping his nose to the top of her head. "You smell like lavender." 

Sansa pouted, but her bed partner remained oblivious. Soon, she felt his breath even out, and Sansa gently pulled out of his hold. 

The sun still hadn't risen, and Sansa let her back fall against the stone, her gaze cast down at Gendry's sleeping face. His face was smushed against the pillow like a babe's, his lips opening into a fish face against his cheek. Sansa felt the corners of her mouth twitch up just as he readjusted and fell into a much more masculine sleeping pose on his back. Sansa wondered if he knew how he had looked. 

Sansa stared at his profile, etching each curve of his features into her memory. Part of her wanted to run her finger down, tracing the arc of his nose and the plumpness of his lips down over the bump in his throat. She saw his long eyelashes flutter daintily as his eyes moved beneath the lid. _He's dreaming._

She sat against the wall for a time, watching as the light illuminated his face by each moment. It was only when she saw his lips purse and his hand reach out to her that she pushed herself off the wall and crawled to move against him. He let his hand rest on her shoulder, turning so they lay chest to chest. 

"Later," she said. He nodded against her, and soon she fell asleep. 

.......................

They both woke up before Sansa's chamber maid could come. Sansa was going to wait, but Gendry held her linen dress up. 

"It's not like I haven't already done it," he said. "Not _that_ complicated." 

Once they were both fully dressed, Gendry held the door open for his Queen and followed her down the corridor. It was still early enough that not many people were in the halls, and Sansa pulled Gendry to the side for a quick kiss before separating to go to the kitchens and plan a breakfast for her guests. 

"I'll save a place for you if you like," she said. 

"I've got bread at the forge," he said. "I'll see you later," he smiled as he turned to open the door. 

"You'll not just be seeing me, I hope," Sansa said, causing him to turn around, caught off guard by her forwardness. He tripped over the small step onto the snow, and Sansa laughed before shutting the door behind him.

.......................

"Don't throw the ball so hard!" one of the children in the yard squealed. Sansa looked up from where she had been sitting outside, listening to Bran prattle on about the progress of the troops. It's not that she didn't care, it's that her brother could go on for _so long_ over every small detail down to the last time the men had eaten. She was just about to change the subject when one of the children squealed. 

"Look what you did now!"

Sansa turned her attention to see three children walking into the center of their makeshift playing field. One of the boys was holding back tears.  

"I didn't mean to, Sean, really-"

"Where'd it go?" asked the only girl pragmatically.

"I dunno," the littler boy sniffed. "I think it went..." he lifted a small pointed finger up and pointed over to the forge. The children's face froze, and they began to talk quietly amongst themselves. 

Sansa pushed herself up from her seating place and excused herself, making her way over to the trio. When they saw her approaching, their eyes went wide, as if they had not had breakfast with her earlier that day.  

"Hello," Sansa said, smiling. "Are you having some trouble?"

The little girl quickly shook her head. 

"No your grace," she said. "No trouble."

"I threw the ball and it went over there," the boy said, pointing his finger again. The two older children turned around and began to furiously shush him.

"Oh, it's alright. Would you like me to go get it? The blacksmith is really quite nice," she flashed them another smile. 

"He's got the scary bull helment," the little boy said, stumbling over his words. He put two little fingers up against his head as if they were horns. 

"It's  _helm._ " the little girl said.

"How about this," Sansa said, noticing Gendry begin to walk along the upper floor, making for the stairs. "I'll retrieve your ball, and then I'll show you the best place to play?"

The three children nodded, and Sansa hurried as casually as she could to the forge, bent on beating Gendry there. She slipped past the oilcloths that served as a fourth wall whenever he was out of the shop and spied the red ball on the opposite side of his work bench. Quickly, she lay her stomach over the bench and made a show of reaching over for the ball just as she heard the oilcloth flutter behind her. 

"...Sansa?" he asked, and she turned her head over her shoulder and flashed him a smile. 

"The children lost their ball," she pointed down at the small red object. 

He didn't respond right away. Checking that the oilcloth had closed behind him, he dropped the parcel he had been carrying and ran his fingers down his jaw as he approached her from behind. Sansa felt her face warm, and a moment later she felt his hands on her waist, pulling her back against him. She felt something hard press into her arse and smiled to herself. 

"They'll be expecting me," she said facetiously. She felt Gendry's hands go up her spine, before clutching a handful of her hair. 

"They can wait," he said. Sansa felt Gendry rustle her skirt up, and let her face fall against the table. 

"Someone could walk in," she sighed. She felt his hand dip into her small clothes. His finger ran the length of her.

"Do you really care?" he said as he pressed his finger into her. Sansa purred and shook her head. 

Slowly, he added another finger and began to set a rhytm. Sansa sighed against the work bench, before she felt his hand pull on her shoulder. standing up, Gendry pulled his hand from her and trailed his fingers along the seam of her small clothes before dipping into the front and pressing the pads of his two fingers against her clit. Sansa let out a small, contented sigh, careful not to be to loud. Outside, swords sang. 

Gendry dropped an open mouth kiss on her neck, and Sansa pressed her backside against him. Quickly, he spun her around and hoisted her up onto the table, spreading her legs before pulling her head back in for a deep kiss. Sansa felt his hand press against her again, and moments later he had resumed pushing his fingers agonizingly slowly in and out of her. Sansa bit her lip and began to pull at his shirt laces as he went in for another kiss. She ran her fingers through the chest hair that poked out, scratching the skin beneath. She felt Gendry growl as he resumed kissing the spot on her neck. She felt hands begin to fiddle with the ties of her dress. With the neckline loosened, he pawed her right breast. Sansa pulled him from her neck and kissed him, biting his bottom lip between her teeth.

"Your Grace?" a small voice called out from behind the oil cloth. 

Sansa felt as if an entire barrel of snow had been dropped onto them. Before they would pull out of their compromising position, the three children entered. 

"Fucking he-" Gendry felt a small, determined punch in the center on his back. He flinched, and fell away from Sansa, who had quickly closed her legs and pulled the skirt over. Gendry balanced himself against his bench, as another small fist came into his stomach. 

"Don't hurt the Queen!" the other little boy yelled. The small girl yanked hi arm down, catching him off guard. The older boy grabbed a fist full of Gendry's hair and yanked. 

"I wasn't- Stop!" Gendry cried as the littler boy gave him a kick in the shins. Sansa pushed herself off the table and went around to scoop the little red ball up. 

"Children!" she said, unable to hide the laughter in her voice. Three little heads shot up to look at her. "I thank you for your ready action in defending me, but Ser Waters was just helping me look for your ball," she smiled as she dropped the little object into the small boy's hand. 

"But we say him-he was biting you!" the little girl said, sending a glare up to Gendry, who had pulled himself up from the floor. 

"He had tripped," Sansa said before reaching out to ruffle his hair. "Silly Ser Waters." he shot a look her way. She turned her attention back to the children.

"Would you like to see that spot?" she said, bending down to place her hands on her knees. The three children smiled and nodded their heads. Sansa stood up straight and reached out for the older boys hand. 

"If you will take my hand ser, I shall show you the way." She turned her head to Gendry as the children began to lead her out. She sent him a smile and tried not to laugh at the look of pure frustration on his face. 

Sansa led the children down to the Godswood. There, she threw the ball against the big stone wall and caught it as it flew back. She tossed the toy to the girl, and picked up a stick from the ground. 

"To thank you again for being so brave," she said, "I hereby knight..."

"Jon," the older boy said. Sansa dipped the branch onto each shoulder. 

"Ser Jon," she said regally. She moved onto the Lady Allison and Ser Caleb. Once they had been formally sworn to her service, Sansa left them to their game  in the wood that she and her siblings had played in long ago. 

Just as she passed the archway, she felt a strong hand pull her to the left. Gendry quickly opened the door to the small room that had once served as the Maester's storage room, now just filled with assorted junk that couldn't be left anywhere else. 

"'Silly Ser Waters', eh?" he said against her neck once the door was closed and he had her against it. He trailed kissed down to her chest, and began loosening the ties in the back. 

"I could have let them keep on," she smiled, feeling his fingers yank at the lower ties. 

"They could have let us keep on," he growled, dipping a hand into the front of her bodice. Sansa grit her teeth as he yanked the neckline down and took a nipple inbetween his forefinger and thumb. 

"I couldn't help it," she said. "It was just by your bench. It was too perfect," 

Gendry shut her up with a kiss. She felt his hands begin to bunch up her skirt just as she heard it. 

"Sansa!" Bran's voice rang out. 

"Are you fucking kidding me," Gendry said, letting his head fall onto her shoulder. Giggling, Sansa pressed a kiss to his temple. 

"You should have had me this morning when you had the chance," she said, turning around for Gendry to lace her up. 

"Should have," he said under his breath, tightening the top lace. He let his hand linger on her waist before Sansa swished around and kissed him quickly. She pushed open the door and walked outside, and turned to see Bran had wheeled himself in his new contraption down the walkway leading down the stairs on to the room.

"What were you doing in there?" he said. He nodded at her dress. "You're all dirty,"

Sansa looked down and saw the smudges all over her. She was suddenly aware she probably had some on her face, as well. 

"Looking for something, it's gritty in there." she wiped her hands on her dress. "What did you need?"

Bran looked at her skeptically before answering. "The lumber order is here. They want to make sure you want them to take it to the village and not leave it here,"

Sansa nodded before straightening her back and gliding past her brother with the most Queen like posture she could manage. Eventually, she heard Bran maneuver himself around and begin to follow her. 

...........

After supper, Sansa lagged behind at the table as her brother excused themselves for bed. Once she was sure they were gone, Sansa went to the door leading to the courtyard and went outside. The sun had long since set, and Winterfell was lit only by the moon and torches that hung from the walls, bathing the surrounding area in warm orange light. Sansa smiled when she saw the torch outside of the forge was still lit. 

When she pushed back the oilcloth, Gendry didn't look up from his work. 

"Closed," he said. 

"Even for your Queen?"

Gendry's head bucked up, and a wide smile broke out when he saw her. He leaned against the bench, work forgotten.

"Always open for you, your Grace." 

Sansa smirked and reached out for the torch. Pulling it from its hold, she dropped it into the water barrel below. She turned back to him, letting the oil cloth flutter closed behind her. 

"Sansa," she said, slowly walking over to stand opposite of him across the bench. He smiled, and Sansa watched as the light danced along his shiny torso as he laughed. 

"Come alone this time?" he asked. Sansa shook her head slowly. Gendry pushed himself up from the bench and walked around to her. She looked up at him expectantly, but he pinched part of her skirt and held it up. 

"Ruined your dress," he smiled. 

"Guess you should take it off," she shrugged. "A Queen can't be seen in a dirty dress, after all."

"No," he smiled, and reached for her hand. He pushed the door open to his room just as someone slid past the oil cloth. Osha. 

"Sansa-" she started. 

"No." Gendry cut her off. Osha's face pulled back as if surprised. Before she could say anything, Gendry bent down and caught Sansa at her middle, hoisting her over his shoulder before turning back to Osha. 

"Gendry!" Sansa laughed. "Put me down!"

"I'm sorry," Gendry said, "The Queen will be unavailable -"

"Gendry!" she giggled, beating at his legs half heartedly. He swatted her arse, causing her to screech. 

"-The Queen will be unavailable until morning," he said. "She's busy," 

Sansa couldn't see, but Osha's shocked face formed a small smile. She held a goblet out to Gendry. 

"See she drinks this, later," she said. "Wherever she is,"

Gendry took the goblet and gave Osha a quick nod before turning back to his door. Sansa looked up as she bounced against Gendry's shoulder. For the first time in all the months Osha had known the Queen, this was the first time she looked genuinely happy. She ducked under the oilcloth and made for the main hall. 

"I'm sorry, Osha!" she laughed.

Osha nodded at her Queen. As Gendry walked into his room, she ducked under the oilcloth and made for the main hall. 

Inside, the fire blazed, warming the room. Gendry kept Sansa balanced on his shoulder as he swung the door shut. He placed the goblet on the small table before making for the bed in the corner and gently tossing Sansa down. She bounced against the straw, giddy. Gendry reached out and caught her foot, yanking her boot off, then her stockings. He reached for the other, and did the same. 

"Still want a bastard to fuck you on a dirty straw mattress?" he said, throwing the boot over his shoulder. 

Sansa laughed. 

"Absolutely,"

"Thank gods," he said and crawled atop her. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you know what the next chapter is going to be. 
> 
> Let me know you want me to continue, cause honestly I'm intimidated by writing smut lol


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *swigs wine* Alright, bitches. Here it is. NSFW. I really had to make myself sit down and do this because, fan fic writer cliche, I've never written smut before now. *swigs wine again*  
> Enjoy.   
> Also, fair warning:   
>  Chapter discusses some past abuse a bit.

Gendry had only gone to bed with three women.

 

The first was when he was young, on his fourteenth name day. The fishmonger’s recent widow, fifteen years his senior, had taken him below the docks and pressed a bottle of wine to his lips. She said that he looked like her husband when he was young. After, she had cried on his shoulder, and they didn’t speak of it again.

 

The second was a woman named Lila. A few months before he had made the move north, he had found work in a small village forge. Lila worked at the inn across from the shop, and one day had asked him for a drink. The ended up in a room hours later, tangled up together. Gendry remembered her brown hair fanning out across the pillow, her big brown eyes looking up at him as she…well.

 

            He fell in love with her as easily as he fell into her bed. When he had worried about getting her with child, she laughed and climbed atop him, telling him a robber’s knife had decided her childless future years ago. She didn’t mind. She had plans – boats to Braavos, deserts to cross, wonderful new places to explore. She couldn’t do that with a child. Gendry was supportive, but never really thought anything would come of it. That fell apart when, eventually, she showed up at the forge with a bag over her shoulder. Gendry dropped everything then, offered to go with her, even asked her to marry him, but she just gave him a sad smile.

 

“I’m not the one you’re looking for, sweetling,” she had said.

 

            The last woman he had been with was named Bess. She was slight, with long wispy blonde hair to her waist. They had shared a tent after crossing paths on the way up north. They rarely talked, only really acknowledging each other when they were settling in for the night. One morning, Gendry woke up alone to find half of his supplies were stolen. He recovered them a long walk later, when he stumbled upon Bess’s corpse, her belly having been torn open by a wolf.

 

Gendry felt them. Bedrooms are always haunted by past lovers.

 

“Gendry?”

 

Gendry snapped out of his daze. He realized that he had paused after crawling atop her, lost in thought.

 

“Sorry,” he said. Sansa smiled up at him, and brought her hand to his cheek. Gendry kissed her palm, and then looked down into her eyes.

 

The ghosts dissipated.  

 

“Everything alright?” she asked sweetly.

Gendry nodded, and dropped his head down to press a kiss against her lips.

 

Sansa wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, pulling him in closer, pressing her body against him. She felt a strong hand grasp at her waist before hooking behind her back to hold her closer. Gendry grunted above her, a hand sneaking down to trail up her leg, pushing the hem of her dress up as he inched closer to her hip. Not wanting to sacrifice the closeness, Sansa spread her legs and hugged Gendry tighter to her, biting his bottom lip lightly as his hand ran along the inside of her thigh.

            Sansa felt two fingers press against her. She pulled from the kiss to bury her head in his shoulder, rolling her hips to press the small bundle of nerves against the pads of his fingertips. Gendry pressed farther down, pressing against the cotton that blocked him from her entrance. The small clothes were wet, and Sansa could smell her arousal as Gendry pushed the rest of her dress up past her hips. He relaxed his grip on her and sat back, pulling his shirt up from over his head. Sansa sat up too, and began to tug at the restraints of her dress. She had gotten the first three buttons before Gendry let his hand fall on her knee. Sansa gave up on the rest, and yanked the neck line over her head. Once she was in her shift, Gendry pushed her shoulder gently, motioning her to lie on her back. As she relaxed, he dipped his two fingers into his mouth, and snaked them into her small clothes.

            Sansa took a shuddering breath as he pressed against her. His thumb found the bundle of nerves as his fingers pressed slowly into her. Sansa squirmed against him, clamping her thighs shut on his hand as she pressed into his touch. She felt Gendry’s mouth on her collarbone as he slowly pumped his fingers into her. His mouth dropped to her chest, before Sansa finally reached down and pulled the straps of the shift up until she had a fistful of the garment to pull off over her. Not missing a beat, Gendry’s hand dropped behind her back to loosen the breast band she had worn, before pulling it off with an obvious flourish, leaving his hand extended as the fabric fluttered to the ground. Sansa giggled and covered her face. Her giggling stopped seconds later when she felt his warm mouth wrap around a nipple, his teeth grazing it lightly and he swirled his tongue around it.

            Sansa took in a deep breath, steeling herself. Exhaling, she pushed up against the bed, sitting up. Before Gendry could voice his confusion, Sansa dropped her hand to his trousers, and began massaging the obvious bulge. Gendry let his head fall back as Sansa repositioned herself so they were both standing on their knees. She brought her hand to his stomach, running lightly over the muscles before dropping her hand below the hem of his trousers. Sansa smiled to herself as his eyes shut when she gripped him, and began to run her hand up and down the length.

            Gendry finally opened his eyes again and turned his attention back to her. With hungry eyes, he crashed his mouth against hers. His hand tugged at her smalls before he dipped his hand in, and pressed the same two fingers into her. Sansa broke the kiss in a gasp when she rode against his thumb. She quickly pulled at the ties on his trousers until she felt him spring free. She pulled them down as Gendry pulled her face for another open mouth kiss. Once his trousers were to his knees, he pushed Sansa back down, letting himself fall on tope of her. He shimmied out of the pants with her feet’s help, and hooked his fingers around her smalls. Eagerly, Sansa raised her hips for him to pull them off. Rather than rip them off, he pulled slowly, smiling as her face contorted in frustration. She remained quiet, though. As he pulled them over her feet, she kept them elated, her feet pointed daintily out. He ran his hand under one of her calves.

“You’re so…queenly,” he said, smiling at how idiotic his compliment sounded. Sansa smiled.

“Because of my leg?” she laughed.

Gendry pressed a kiss on her ankle, and let her legs drop to the mattress.

“Not just your leg,” he said. He crawled on top of her, bracing his weight on his forearms.  He ran a few fingers through her hair. “It’s your hair…” he dropped his fingers to her cheek. “…your skin…” his thumb trailed along her jaw before coming up to pull lightly at her bottom lip. Sansa looked up at him with big, inquisitive eyes.

“…your _you._ ” He said, his eyes trained on her lips. Sansa remained quiet, taking in the sight of the man above her. He flicked his eyes up to hers.

“Is this really want you want?” he said, suddenly serious. His thumb released her lip, and Sansa bit instinctually at it.

“It is,” she said, matching his tone. The two stared at each other for a moment.

“My name’s not Eryn,” Sansa smiled. “It’s Sansa,”

“Oh shut up,” Gendry laughed, dropping his head to her shoulder.

“I work at Winterfell,” she continued, a larger grin breaking out on her face. “My hair’s really red,”

Gendry groaned into her shoulder before pulling back, and beaming down at Sansa.

“I said I’d tell you the truth!” she laughed. Gendry nodded, and brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face.

“Anything else I should know?” he asked.

“She’s been spending time with a very handsome smith,” Sansa said. She saw Gendry’s cheeks flush. Growing bold, she quickly flipped their positions, catching him off guard. Once he was on his back, Sansa pressed her mound against him, sliding slowly against his length between her lower lips. Gendry’s head fell back on the pillow as she continued to rock against him, coating him in her wetness.

            “I hear she lost her maidenhead to him,” Sansa said, stilling her hips. Gendry’s eyes opened. Sansa sent a sharp smile down to him. “I heard that the entire castle could hear her calling his name all night.”

Gendry caught Sansa around the waist, repositioning himself on top of her. Gently, he nudged Sansa’s legs open, and began running his shaft against the bundle at the top of her sex.

“All night, aye?”

Sansa opened her mouth, but couldn’t form any words. A small gasp fell from her lips. Gendry dropped a hand to her hip.

“I’ve heard it can hurt,” he said. Sansa opened her eyes to meet his. “I’ll go slow, just tell me if you need me to stop.”

As an answer, Sansa reached up and pulled his mouth to hers. Seconds later, she felt something warm press against her. Gendry took her face in one of his hands, kissing her dominantly as he pressed himself into her. Sansa felt her sex grow hot, expanding in an achingly pleasant way. When he reached her maidenhead, Sansa barely felt a pinch as he pressed on, until their hips met and Sansa felt something hitting _that_ spot.

            The two lay there for a moment, getting used to the sensation. Sansa flexed her legs, marveling at how natural it all felt. So many years off all the horror stories, but now as it happened, she didn’t feel any shame. She felt…warm. Full.

            “You feel nice,” she offered. Gendry laughed.

            “You feel…tight,” he said through gritted teeth. Sansa smiled and brought her mouth up to his, capturing his lips. As he fell back to her, he began to roll his hips. Slowly at first, so she could get used to the sensation, but when she finally broke the kiss and let her head fall to her shoulder, her mouth open just enough to let little, exasperated breaths out, Gendry picked up the pace. He was surprised then when he felt her begin to sit up.

            “I want to get on top,” she said, her voice deep and lustful as her eyes caught his. Gendry almost spent himself then.

            “As the lady commands,” he laughed, pulling her close to him as he swapped their positions. He went to lay down, but Sansa pulled him back to her, seating herself on top of him pressing her heels into the small of his back. She rolled her hips experimentally, and smiled as she pulled a groan from him. She felt his hand reach behind her and grab her waist. Sansa balanced her arms on his shoulders, and began to snap her hips in time with his.

            She began to feel it growing moments later. It felt like something was pulling her sex down, yanking it into it orbit. The tension traveled up to her stomach, inching up every time Gendry pulled his hips back and pumped back into her, his pubic bone pressing against her.

_Gods, why didn’t I do this the first night? He feels so good, so good, he’s so good at this-_

Gendry dropped a hand down between then and began to press circling motions against her clit. Sansa threw her head back, a moan escaping her lips. Gendry smiled to himself before taking a nipple between his teeth.

“Fuck!” Sansa said. The tension was swelling in her chest. She began to ride him harder, as if she were trying to race.

“Tsk,” he said. “That’s not my name,”  he pressed against her clitoris again, causing a small screech to escape her lips.

“G-Gendry,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. Oh Gods, please at least let the children and her brothers be asleep.

“What?” he said.

 _Cocky_.

Gendry pumped up his hips hard as Sansa came down to meet him. She moaned.

“Gendry!” she said, clawing her fingernails into the top of his back. She could hear Gendry smile as he picked up his fingers pace, circling against her madly.

“Gendry!” she shouted this time, almost as encouragement. Obediently, he pumped his hips up into her faster, bringing his mouth to hers.

            As he pounded into her, Sansa felt the tension in her start to become unbearable. With what conscious thought she had left, she managed

“I’m- I’m close,”

“Me too,” he said, his grip on her waist tightening. With one more powerful thrust, the head of his cock brushed against that spot up inside her, and she let her head fall back, almost losing herself completely had Gendry not been keeping his hand on her back. She felt herself contract tightly around him, and, as if a chain had finally shattered, felt a wave of relief and pleasure hit her immediately as her sex relaxed before contracting again.

“-ahh!” she said quietly as she rode out the rest of her orgasm, half-heartedly still rolling her hips. Below her, Gendry picked up his speed again. Sansa watched his face under her as he came – she felt him contract inside of her before feeling something warm inside of her. His eyes clenched, his mouth falling open, as it happened. When his face finally relaxed, Sansa dropped her lips down to his, pressing a soft kiss. Gendry pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, before breaking apart and looking up at her.

“Hey,” he said softly

“Hello,” she responded, smiling down at him. Softly, Gendry pulled himself from her, and positioned them so they were laying on their sides, Sansa’s back to the wall. Gendry pushed himself off the bed and walked over to the small table, picking up the goblet and small napkin from under it. He walked back, his manhood still standing up.

“You should drink this,” he held the goblet out to her. Sansa wrapped her fingers around the stem and drank the concoction in two gulps. Once done, she dropped the cup off the edge of the bed. Gendry reached between her legs with the napkin, wiping at her legs and against her sex.

“What-?”

Gendry held up the napkin. Spunk, some clear liquid and a smidge of blood.

“You’ll be more comfortable this way,” he said, crumpling the napkin up and tossing it over into the corner. In the center of the room the fire was dying. Gendry pulled the blanket from the bottom of the bed, draping it over Sansa before crawling under it himself. He turned onto his side, and she followed suit to look at him.

“Are you okay?” he finally asked. Sansa nodded.

“A bit sore,” she smiled. “But a good sore, I think.”

Gendry met her smile, and reached out to pull her to him. Sansa shimmied into his hold and pressed her cheek against his chest.

“I’m sorry, if it wasn’t-“ he began, insecurity bleeding into his voice. Gods, he had taken her in a dirty shack, the fucking _Queen-_

“It was perfect,” Sansa said, snaking her arms around his neck. Gendry looked down at her, and a soft smile broke out on his face.

“Your doing,” he said before she scooched up to kiss him.

She pulled away and tucked herself against him, wrapping an arm across and onto his shoulder. Gendry took in a deep breath, and tried to remember the names of the ghosts that had haunted him earlier.

He couldn’t. There was only Sansa now. Maybe there was only ever her.

 

_Pretty girl, why don’t you sit next to me?_

_We’re not allowed to fuck you, but how long do you thing this war will last, child?_

_I bet your cum tastes like peaches_

_Let me –_

_I just want to –_

_Why don’t you open your mouth, Lady Stark-_

 

Sansa sat up in a cold sweat.

 _Nightmares. That’s all they were._ She tried reminded herself. Sansa held her hands to her face. They were shaking.

_I’m fine, I’m fine-_

Sansa felt something crawling up her back. Stiffening, she felt the pin-needles of dread begint o prick into her neck. She needed to bathe, to get _their_ hands off her. Gods, why did it have to be tonight, why these nightmares?

 

Careful not to rouse the man fast asleep next to her, Sansa pulled her shift on and snuck to the door. Quietly, she pushed it open, ignoring the small pains each step caused between her legs. Once she was outside, she sucked cold air through chattering teeth. _I just need some snow. Just a little._ She saw a bucket by Gendrys work bench, and wrapped her fingers around the rusty handle, metal biting into her palm. Quickly, she pushed past the oil cloth curtain, and quickly fell to her knees to gather snow.

 

            She thought one handful would be enough. But when she looked at the pail, it looked woefully inadequate. Pushed by the images in her head – the men’s hands, their tongues, their threats- she kept piling snow into the bucket. She didn’t notice as she slowly lost feeling in her fingers, nor when the curtain behind her flapped open.  

“Sansa!” Gendry gasped. He dropped down to his knees and caught her hands between his. Quickly, she jerked away.

“Sansa,” he said, looking at her state of undress and the over-piled contents of the bucket. “What’s wrong? What are you doing?” He reached a hand out to comfort her, but stopped as she flinched. Sansa realized what she had done when his face fell.

“It’s-“ she stumbled, trying to find the words. “It’s not you. Oh Gods,” she began piling the snow up again, knowing it was impossibly high. “I had a dream. It was the men…they were grabbing at me, forcing me to…” she shook her head, trying to keep the tears in. She drove her hands into the snow, willing herself to be cold. She couldn’t. Hot tears dropped down her cheeks. “I thought this wouldn’t happen anymore. I…I just feel dirty. I don’t want to feel dirty with you, Gendry!” she cried, dropping her face into her palms. “I don’t regret what we did. I wanted to do it, I want to do it again- why do I feel so horrible?” she finally turned back to look at him, expecting to see his face contorted in disgust after she had just ruined the beautiful thing that had bloomed between them. Instead, his eyes were soft. He let his hand fall to his side, before pushing himself up and disappearing behind the oil cloth. Before Sansa could call out after him, he reappeared, a second bucket in his hand.   
“This will be enough water, I think.” He said, dropping to his knees again. Sansa watched him silently as he dropped the first handful of snow into the bucket. He turned to her when she didn’t say anything.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He shrugged.

“Helping,” he said. “What do you need of me?”

Sansa felt heat flush back to her cheeks.

“I…Could I bathe in your room?”

He nodded, reaching for another handful of snow and plopping it in. They worked in silence, and leave the buckets of snow at the door as they work to pull in a small tub from his forge into the room. They dump the snow in, and Gendry starts a fire. Once it’s roaring, they push the tub against the heat, and sit to wait.

Sansa wrings her hands, and looks over to the man sitting next to her. His eyes are trained on the fire.

“I should have done this alone,” she says finally, looking down at her hands. “It was unfair to subject you to this. To my…”

“No,” he said, not turning his head to her. Sansa stops abruptly, and looks up at him.

“No?”

“I want you to tell me every time this happens,” he said. “If you want. If I can help.”

“But it’s not your burden,” she said.

“It is,” he corrected.

“Why?” she asked, softly. Gendry let a small smile break out on his lips before turning to her.

“Because I love you, Sansa. Your battles are my battles. I’m not the sort to let my lady run to fight by herself.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to include the nightmare because I hate media that pretends trauma goes away when you fall in love. I want couples who do the work together and communicate. It felt too *perfect* ending their first time as cute and then doing this in the next chapter. I wanted that juxtaposed complexity, man. But also with porn? So here we are
> 
> I had to look away from my screen while writing this out of shame so please comment and let me if I did okay. Smut is a weird this to write.


	10. Chapter 10

Gendry watched Sansa as she stripped down and stepped into the tub. The fire caught the texture of her back as goosebumps formed across her shoulders.

“The water’s not warm enough, is it?” Gendry asked.

“It’s fine,” she said, taking in a huff of breath. With a shaking hand, she reached over the tub’s rim for the shirt Gendry had given her to use as a rag.

“Sansa, stop.” He pushed himself against the wall and walked over to where she stood. Below him, crunched into herself in the tub, she looked so small and scared. Half of her bright red hair danced in the water. With her big, unblinking blue eyes, she looked afraid of him.

Gendry slowly bent down, as if wanting to show her she had nothing to be afraid of. He dipped his fingers into the water and almost immediately jerked back.

“Gods, Sansa, that’s barely melted.”

Sansa shrugged, and dunked the shirt under the water.

“It’ll do.” She brought the rag above her head and squeezed. As water trickled out, Sansa tried her best to hide her flinch. “The path to the springs has been snowed in for three moons. When the spring comes,” she shivered as she brought the rag to her shoulders. “We’ll clear the trees that have fallen and make another path.”

Gendry nods, and lets the blanket fall to the ground.

“Ah!” Sansa lurches forward, and for a moment he thinks she has hurt herself. Instead, she reaches over the rim of the tub and quickly yanks the blanket away from the fire place. “There’s a coal,” she offered as explanation, sitting back up. Gendry admonished himself for letting his eyes fall over her wet, shivering body as she balanced on her knees and reached for the soap on the opposite side of the tub.

“Wait here,” he said, trotting to the door. Sansa watched him perplexed as he dipped out of the door and out of sight, only to come back in with a large sword. In a few strides, Gendry crossed the room to the fire.

“…Gendry?” Sansa managed.

“Just wait,” he dropped the blade of the sword into the fire, turning it lazily as he watched the metal, careful not to leave it in too long. When he was sure it was just at the right temperature, he pulled the sword out of the fire and stood up straight.

“Move your legs, love,” he said. Sansa tucked her legs against her and pressed her back along the opposite rim of the tub. Carefully, Gendry dropped the sword into the water, gritting his teeth as the steam erupted. When the steam settled, Gendry pulled the sword back out and smiled down at his lady.

“Did that help?”

Sansa gave him a small smile.

“It did a little,” she said, her nose scrunching. Gendry frowned and dropped to his knees, and dipped his hand in. While it was an obvious improvement, it was still chilly.

“I’ll do it again,” he said, wiping the blade on his pants and laying it back into the fire. As he pulled his hand back, Sansa caught his wrist.

“I…” she started, looking down at his hand. Gendry waited, not wanting to push anything she was trying to tell him. When she looked up at him, he saw another small smile break out on her face. Without a word, she laced their fingers together, and relaxed against the tub. He smiled back at her and jostled their hands playfully, settling himself on the ground by her bath. One of Sansa’s feet kicked the water, and the fleeting memory of old men with knobbly, scarred knuckles telling him and his friends stories of mermaids.

            He dunked the sword into her bath a few more times, until the water was warm enough for the goosebumps on Sansa’s back to settle. The stubborn woman had insisted upon staying in the tum and continuing her bath even as the water caused her words to quiver. Gendry gave up on trying to convince her, and now sat by the tub, leaning his back against the bed as Sansa began to lather herself up for a third time.

Gendry was suddenly aware of how predatory he must look, laying back and watching her bathe like he was. Embarrassed, he spoke up.

“Do you want me to-“ he motioned to the door.

“What?” she looked to where his finger was pointed. “No!” she said, scared as if she had offended him. “Of course not, it’s your room. And we…” her cheeks reddened, and she dunked the shirt back into the soapy water again. Gendry smirked and crossed his arms.

“We what?”

Sansa flicked some water at him in mock annoyance. Taking it as a challenge, Gendry kept his goofy smile and he pushed himself up from his seat and crawled to the tubs edge, dipping a hand in and capturing an ankle. Sansa squeaked in delight, and kicked a small splash up at him.

“Are you _blushing_ , Lady Stark?” he asked.

“No!” she lied, bringing a hand up to her face.

“Have I been improper?” he asked playfully, dropping his hand into the water to fish out her other ankle.

“Gendry!” Sansa laughed. She steadied herself by putting her arms down along the sides.

Gendry, waiting for an answer, began to criss cross her feet. Sansa laughed. Gendry slowed, and his smile faded slightly. Gently, he let her feet fall back into the bath, and settled at the end of the tub. Sansa’s face softened, perplexed by the abrupt mood change.

“You don’t…” Gendry started before dropping his head down. “Never mind.”

“What?” Sansa moved to the other side so their faces could be closer. Gendry looked up.

“It’s not right to ask right now.” He said.

Sansa’s heart skipped a beat.

“What is it?”

“I just….you don’t regret it, do you? You’re not ashamed of…” he motioned slightly with his head to the bed. “That it was with me?”

 Sansa wanted to cry.

“Gendry,” she said, reaching out to place her hand on his shoulder. His eyes tightened, and his jaw set. Sansa had seen her brothers do the same thing when they were trying to steel themselves.  Quickly, she pushed herself out of the tub, the third wash-through forgotten. She kneeled beside him, water dripping from her and forming small mud puddles on the dirt floor. Gendry shook his head.

“It’s not about me,” he said.

“Gendry,” Sansa clipped. He looked up at her, surprised by the regal tone she had taken with him. Sansa could see wetness in his eyes. “You said it first. My battles are your battles.”  

Gendry swallowed, and quickly nodded. He brought his palms up to his eyes and pressed. He pushed his head back up, and looked up at the ceiling as he began to explain.

“I’m some low-born bastard who can barely read,” he said finally. Sansa reached for the blanket he had pulled from the bed earlier, and quickly wrapped it around her. She settled closer to him, and let her hand fall on his knee.

“I’m not…good enough, for you.” He said.

“Gendry,” she said, her voice softer than before. Gendry turned his head to look at her. Sansa pushed herself off her spot and fit herself between his legs. Taking the corners of the blanket in her hands, she reached out and rested her hands on his shoulders, tenting the sides and enclosing them. Sansa moved to straddle him as his knees dropped, and ran her finger tips along the underside of his jaw. Gendry closed his eyes again, and reached up to gently enclose his hand around her wrist.

“I want you to listen to me,” she said slowly. “Look at me,” shocked by her own bravery, Sansa tried to keep her face serious as he opened his eyes. She took his face in her hands.

“There is no one in this life or the next who is better for me than you are, do you understand me?” she asked. “I’m the one who lied to you. I’m the one who woke you up and made you help me make a bath-“

“You didn’t make me, I want-“

“Hush!” she bopped him on the shoulder. “ _I’m_ the one who has been dishonest and I’m the one who’s broken.”

“Sansa, you’re not-“

“Will you let me finish?” she huffed.

“ _You’re not._ ”

Sansa rolled her eyes and Gendry’s hands came to rest on her hips, pulling her closer against him as if urging her to continue. She sighed.

“I’m the one who is unworthy of you, Gendry. Me. Not you. Never you.” She shook her head.

            One of Gendry’s hands lifted from her side and tilts her chin up.

“Well,” he sighed, a smile erupting across his face. “What are we going to do with each other?”

Sansa let a small giggle escape before pressing herself against him and kissing him. Gendry’s hands came to lay on her back, pulling her closer against him. Sansa sighed into his mouth, and flicked her tongue across his top lip. Gendry let a small moan escape before bringing his hands up to her breasts. Sansa groaned, and ran her fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp. With one hand, Gendry pressed them up from their seat on the floor until he could lay back on the bed, bringing Sansa down with him. Turning them onto their sides, Gendry bit her bottom lip softly before pulling away. Sansa tried to reach for him and pull him back, but he laughed and pulled her into his arms.

“You need to sleep,” he said. “You’ve got a country to run.”

Sansa groaned, her breath tickling the hair on his chest. Gendry smiled to himself.

“Not very lady-like, growling.” He teased.

Sansa lifted her head to look up at her lover with a stern expression. Gendry smiled back down before placing a kiss on her forehead.

“Not very chivalrous, denying a lady who is obviously in need of warmth,” she wiggled against him. Gendry stifled a moan.

“Aye, I can do that.” He said, rolling on top of her, trapping Sansa beneath him and letting some of his weight drop onto her. Sansa laughed.

“Well, g’night” Gendry said, dropping his head onto the pillow under her shoulder. Sansa giggled as he mock-snored beside her.

“Gendry,” she chuckled. “You oaf, you know that-”

“I’m sleeping, I can’t hear you,” he said, turning his face to her. Sansa sighed, and brought her hand up to his cheek. Gendry dropped over to her side, freeing her, and looked up at her.

“I didn’t say it earlier,” she said slowly, running her thumb along his cheek. “but I should have told you sooner. The day morning I first left you, I should have told you.”

Gendry brought his hand up to cover hers.

Sansa took in a breath.

“I love you,” she said.

Gendry wrapped his arm around her waist and lazily pulled her closer against him into a deep, warm kiss. When they finally parted, Gendry pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Say it again,” he said.

“I love you,” Sansa smiled. Gendry kissed her.

“Again,” he said. Sansa laughed.

“I love you,”

And so they went until sleep over came them, ushered in by quieter affirmations and lazier lips. Before closing her eyes and drifting off, Sansa pressed her hips against his, and breathed in his scent.

_Gods. Don’t let me lose this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what really turns me on? Communication 
> 
> Thanks again for reading, y'all! Grad school's got me swamped but every comment and kudo y'all give me makes my little, stressed heart sing.
> 
> Btw, I'm thinking of doing a drabble fic based on any prompts I may get. You can submit those babies on my tumblr (because of course I have a tumblr):
> 
> www.graphically-novel.tumblr.com


	11. Chapter 11

When Sansa awoke, Gendry was already up boiling water in his fire place. Pushing herself up, Sansa pulled the covers around her and padded over to where Gendry was sitting. Gendry felt her sit down next to him, but kept his eyes on the fire, a small smile creeping across his face.

“You should go back to sleep,” he said softly. Sansa looked over her shoulder to the window and saw the pink light of morning start to creep over the stone walls. She turned her attention back to Gendry.

“Bed’s cold without you,” she said, dropping her face just behind her arm so only he could only see her eyes. Gendry turned to face her. Sansa smiled instinctively.

“You think they know?” he shrugged to the window. Sansa felt her cheeks redden.

“Perhaps,” she said, pushing a lock behind her ear. “Especially after last night,” her voice trailed off a bit at the end. Despite her anxiety over bringing up what they had done last night, a smile broke out across Sansa’s face. When she felt Gendry’s eyes fall on her, she brought her hand to her eyes.

“I was so loud,” Sansa laughed, embarrassed. She heard Gendry’s laugh before he reached out to pull one of her arms towards him. Forgetting her nakedness, Sansa let her arm and legs open, keeping her face buried in her opposite arm.

“I liked it,” Gendry whispered, moving between her legs. Sansa felt his hands over her kneecaps.

“Of course _you_ did,” she giggled. “Who wouldn’t want their name yelled out during-“ Sansa stopped, still too nervous to say it.

“Is that something you want to hear me say?” Gendry kissed her neck. Sansa hummed and lifted her head from her arm, turning to him.

Sansa smiled as he lifted his head. Gently, she pressed her lips against his, before letting her forehead fall to touch his.

“Take me to bed,” she said into his ear.

Gendry laughed, and placed his hands on her waist. “I don’t think we have time, love,”

Sansa sighed and let her head fall back.

“Gods, how bad was I?” she half-joked.

“No, no, no,” Gendry said, pulling her close to him and burying his head between her breasts. “You were fantastic,”

“Then…” Sansa reached down between them and pressed her hand against his crotch. Feeling that he was hard, Sansa tightened her grip and felt Gendry tense below her.  Sansa smiled to herself, and took her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it before she opened her mouth.

“You know,” she said, flicking her eyes down to where her hand was massaging him. “I never got to finish that night, when Osha walked in…”

Gendry exhaled sharply, and Sansa dropped her mouth to his neck.

“Please,” she breathed against him. Gendry tightened his eyes.

“Ser Carrick will be here when the sun is up,” he said, turning his head to the window. Sansa turned his head back towards her.

“I don’t need that long,” she said sweetly. Gendry opened his eyes and Sansa saw how large his pupils had gotten. With a stiff nod, he reached out and pulled Sansa’s mouth to his, grasping the back of her head. Sansa let the blanket fall behind her and flutter down her back. Sitting herself on her heels, she broke the kiss and reached out to pull his laces. Once he was free enough, she lay over her thighs and pressed her hand gently against his stomach, encouraging him to fall back against the wall. Keeping her eyes on his, she reached down and took him in her hand. She began to set a rhythm, bringing her hand up and down steadily, sometimes twisting her wrist just to feel him twitch. Sansa wet her lips and took the head of him between her lips, relishing the sound of his sharp inhale. Sansa bobbed her head down, taking more of him in. She felt him fist her hair in his hand, pulling it gently. Sansa took him from her mouth and began kissing down the side, until taking him back in after swirling he tongue across the top. Gendry groaned.

“Fuck,” he said softly. Sansa took him from her mouth again.

“Tsk,” she said, shaking her head at him in mock-disapproval. “That’s not my name.”

Before Gendry can retaliate, Sansa take him back in her mouth, pushing him as far back as he’ll go into her throat. Her hand snaked up his shirt and pinched one of his nipples between her thin fingers. Gendry’s leg twitched, bucking up a bit.

“Sansa,” he groaned, his other hand coming up to grasp her hair. He let out a throaty moan as she pressed him to the back of her throat again, humming. Sansa pulled back until the head was the only thing in her mouth, and began running the tip of her tongue around it frantically. Her other hand continued pumping him, twisting her wrist every other pump. Gendry’s grip in her hair tightened.

“Sansa,” he said. The sting on her scalp felt good. “You should…if you don’t…”

Sansa ignored him, tweaking his nipple again. Gendry let out a sharp gasp and pulled her hair again. Sansa picked up her pace as his breath picked up.

            Then, Gendry let out a little cry, much like he had the night before. Sansa pressed him to the back of her throat, waiting until he finally stopped huffing to pull back. Sansa swallowed on her way up, not minding the taste as much she had before, when she had been forced.

But it was different now.

Sansa felt a bit that had managed to escape her mouth and dribble onto her lip. Making sure he was watching her through half-lidded eyes, she swept her finger across her lips and captured what was left before plopping it into her mouth. Gendry let out a small moan as she pulled her finger out with a small _pop!_. Sansa smiled at him.

“Told you,” she said before breaking out in giggles.

“Gods, I love you,” Gendry said before grabbing the back of her head and pulling her into a kiss. Sansa sighed against his lips contently, and when the kiss broke, she pressed on quick, chaste kiss against his lips again before pushing up and standing between his legs, blanket forgotten. Gendry made to reach out pull her sex towards his mouth, she stopped him.

“Ser Carrick, remember?” she said, catching his wrists. Gendry sighed before looking up at her.

“That isn’t fair,” he said in a half serious tone of disappointment. He dropped his eyes back down to her sex. “And it looks really good,”

Sansa felt as if her entire body turn the angry red of her scar, and was about to part her legs slightly when a door slammed open outside, startling her out of her trance.

“Later,” she said, stepping away. Gendry groaned but pushed himself up and began to lace himself into his trousers.

“Later,” Gendry sighed.

 

…..

 

Sansa made it to her chamber before her maid was due to wake her. She pealed off her linen dress and threw it under the bed, as if she had just dropped it and crawled in bed the night before. She pulled the furs back and slipped into bed, just as she heard the door handle start to turn.

 

“Your Grace,” Alyson’s voice called meakly from the doorway. Sansa turned, ready to feign sleepiness.

“Mmmmm Hello, Alyson. Time to get up already?”

“Um,” Alyson began to fiddle with her fingers. “Lord Stark asks for your presence in the hall. He says its an emergency and that I should fetch you right away,”

Sansa shot up in her bed and reached for the robe beside her bed, tying the pale blue sash around her waist with more strength than necessary.

“Did he say what it concerns?” she asks. Alyson shook her head.

“No, Your Grace,” she said, as if embarrassed for not knowing.

“It’s alright,” Sansa said in the sweetest voice she could muster. “Take me to him?”

Alyson trailed behind Sansa as she walked down the main hall. When they came to the doors of the main hall, Sansa dismissed her maid and told her that she would see her in an hour. Once alone, Sansa pulled the door and let herself in.

Bran sat at the center of the largest table, surrounded by her council. Osha stood aside, leaning against a pillar, but stood alert when Sansa pushed past the door. Meera had been pouring over some documents with her brother and Bran when the three of their head perked up at the exact same time. Sansa made a quick walk up the middle, feeling her robe flow behind her from her strut.

“Whats the matter?” Sansa asked, coming to a stop in front of the table. “Alyson told me it was an emergency,”

it was only then that Sansa noticed how pale her brother looked. He held up a piece of parchment and handed it to her.

“Raven came early this morning,” he explained as a she unfurled a note in her hand.

Sansa looked down, and read over the script. She read it again. Then again. For some reason, the words wouldn’t enter her head.

She read it again, trying to force her brain to comprehend.

Fire. Tyrell. Death.

“The Tyrells are liars,” Meera said suddenly. “Ambassadors from the Riverlands found Mace Tyrell holed up in the Army barracks - apparently he wasn’t as banished as we thought.”

“Sansa, the-“ Bran stopped, catching his voice in his throat.

“What.” Sansa said flatly. .

“A fire broke out in the barracks a few nights ago, when the castle was sleeping,” Bran managed. “All of the….well, the ones who were off that night….”

“Dead,” Osha finished for her friend. Bran sent her a thankful glance.

Sansa swallowed, determined to keep her face like stone.

“And Mace?”

Bran and Meera exchanged looks.

“Found him an hour’s ride out,” Meera said. “He’d been…brutalized.”

“Brutalized?”

“Someone had taken his eyes,” Meera offered.

“And his tongue!” Rickon shouted from his seat farther down.

“Rickon! Eat your oats!” Bran snapped back.

“No, you’re not telling it right!” he shot back. “Tell it right!”

Bran sighed.

“It’s…graphic,” he said.

“I can take it,” Sansa retorted.

“Someone had…severed…his genitals. And shoved them in his throat. After they had taken out his tongue.”

“He was strung up on a tree, naked. Like they knew they were coming for him, and they wanted him to be humiliated.”

“What does this have to do with us?” she asked abruptly. “We don’t have any troops in Highgarden, nor allies. Do they think we orchestrated this?”

Bran’s face drained of color, and brought his hands together.

“They found…something else.” Jojen had finally spoken up.

“What?” Sansa asked.

“Tyrell’s stomach,” Bran interrupted. “There was a sword left in it, and the blade went missing first nights camp. It was remarkable because it was smaller…easier than most to make. As if…”

“…as if it were made for a little girl.” Sansa finished.

Her gaze fell behind her council, settling on the stone behind them. The world seemed to go blank for a moment.

_I knew it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OHHHHHHHH SNAP


	12. Chapter 12

Sansa hadn’t been gone but five minutes when Ser Carrick breezed into Gendry’s shop. Hearing the flap move, he looked up from where he was leaning against the work bench with his and gave the man a nod.

“Ser Carrick,” Gendry said in the formal tone he tried to inflect whenever he spoke to someone in authority.

“Please,” he said raising a gloved hand up. “Call me Dorian.”

Gendry smiled slightly and nodded again. Her always appreciated when men in power asked him to forgo formalities. It usually meant they weren’t above being kind to a lowborn worker.

“I have those repairs you wanted,” Gendry pulled a large sword from its place on the wall. He held it out for Carrick’s inspection.  

Carrick reached out and took the hilt in his hand, turning his wrist slowly. Gendry watched as he lifted the steel in the air, the steel catching the light of the fire.

“Like it was never even broken,” Carrick smiled. He sheathed the sword, and looked down amazed.

“Fit’s like it never left,” he turned back to look at Gendry. “Incredible work,”

Gendry smiled. “Thank you,”

Carrick considered the man in front of him for a moment longer, looking over his face like he was searching for something. A beat before it would have become inappropriate, Carrick looked around the shop.

“How long have you been in the North?” he asked, beginning to pace around, inspecting the other weapons. Gendry turned to watch him.

“King’s Landing,” he answered. “Flea Bottom.”

Carrick clicked his tongue as he reached out to inspect something on the table closest to the door. “Rough place,” he said, touching something gently with his fore finger. Gendry took a few steps closer to see what he was fiddling with a piece of a broken hammer.

“You don’t look like a city boy,” Carrick said, dropping the piece against the table. Gendry took in the man’s profile. A once broken nose, receding hair line that fell to thin curls behind his ears, and freckles speared by age lines. Carrick’s pale green eyes flicked up to him. “Would have thought you a Northerner. Or a Stormlander, more like.”

Gendry shrugged.

“Your parents from there?”

Gendry shrugged again.  
“Mum lived in Flea Bottom her whole life. Don’t know who my dad is,”

Carrick nodded before looking back up to him.

“You like it here?”

“Sorry?” Gendry asked

“In the North,” Carrick said with a small chuckle as if what he was saying was obvious, and swept his hand across as if trying to illustrate his point.

Gendry ground his teeth.

“Yeah, I suppose.” He said. “I prefer the cold.”

“You ever think of going back? I hear they have dragons now,” Carrick smiled.

Gendry thought red hair spread on his pillow. The soft snores she made when she was asleep and he had woken up and just watched her. Her laugh.

“No,” he shook his head. “I’m happy here.”

Carrick nodded and went back to scoop his sword. After a pause he turned to look at Gendry.

“Can I ask your mother’s name?”

Gendry’s eyebrows shot up.

“Why? Do I resemble your younger brother?”

Carrick laughed. Gendry couldn’t tell if it were sincere.

“I lived there as a boy, until I was 14.” He said. “I may have known her.”

Gendry felt his shoulders relax. He uncrossed his arms.

“Elinor,” he said. “She worked at brothel and then at a bakery, after I was born.”

Carrick nodded. “The name sounds familiar…I’ll think on it.” he held the sword up again. “Again, thank you for this. You’re gifted,” He pulled a small pouch of coin from his side and placed it on the table.

Gendry nodded.

“Of course,” he said walking to open the oilcloth for his visitor. Carrick pushed past and gave Gendry another nod before turning to head to the barracks.

He let the flap shut behind him, and shook his head, trying to rid himself of the strange feeling the meeting had left on his skin. Trying to push the thoughts out of his head, he made for his work bench, picking up his hammer off the anvil.

 

Sansa sat in the library, looking over a spread on maps on her lap. She had gone through the raven’s notes that Bran had been archiving for her (“Honestly Sansa, I’ve had to forge your responses to some of these. Where has your head been these past few months?”) and pulled each one that mentioned a violent death. Carefully with a quill, she marked each x on the map with red ink. She had been working for only thirty minutes when Meera bounded up the stairs.

“Your Grace,” she said, causing Sansa to jerk her head up from her study.

“Meera, I’ve told you to call me Sansa. You’re on my council,” she smiled. Meera nodded, and gave her a small smile. She reached out a piece of parchment sealed with a bright blue seal.

“Came for you just now,” she said. Sansa motioned for her to sit after taking the rolled piece of paper from her hand. Meera’s eyes traveled over the maps surrounding Sansa, who was sitting in a very unladylike cross legged position.

“What are these?”

“The attacks that have occurred in the past six months,” Sansa said, picking at the seal. Carefully she unfurled the parchment and read over the script quickly. Sansa sighed and placed the parchment aside, returning to her list.

“Another invitation,” she said, running her finger along one of the bright blue rivers of the map. “Edric is having his coronation.”

“Oh,” Meera said, as if she were trying to act impressed for the boy’s sake. Sansa smiled to herself.

“I suppose they’ll want me to go,” she nodded to the doorway.

“Well, honestly…” Meera bit her lip. Sansa marked another x on the map.

“That’s why they sent you to tell me,” she said, looking for her next target. Sansa scratched another x before continuing. “That bright blue wax is from Bran’s desk. I bought it for him on his last name day.”

Meera took in a sharp inhale.  
“I didn’t want them to read it before you, honest, but then Bran started ranting about foreign policy-“

“It probably hasn’t helped that I burnt an invitation from Jon Arryn a few weeks ago,” she said dipping her quill in the ink pot. Of all the good, strong people who died during the war, and Sweet Robin, the sickly little bastard, survived.

“I suppose not…” Meera trailed off. Sansa reached for the invitation and handed it out to her Treasurer.

“Tell him I’ll go,” she didn’t look up from her map.

“Truly?” Meera balked. She cleared her throat when she realized how improper she had sounded “Sorry, it’s just that you- haven’t really wanted to-“

“I know,” Sansa smiled up at Meera. “It’s about time, don’t you think?”

Meera returned her smile and rolled the parchment back up. “I’ll go let them know,” she said, and trotted off to the door. When Sansa could no longer hear her footsteps, she marked another red ‘x’ over Storm’s End.

 

After Carrick had gone, Gendry had a slow day. He had finished all of the repairs he was scheduled to return this week, and everything else wasn’t due to be returned for another month. His commissions were already ahead of schedule. Gendry reflected on the fact that the months he had been avoiding Sansa were his most productive months.

 _Never fall into a woman’s arms, boy. Nothing but trouble._  The old drunk man who hung around his mother’s shop used to tell no one in particular. _They’re the sweetest treasure at the beginning. Then they break your heart and leave you with pain._ _If you don’t get it out one way, it’ll come out another._ He would always throw his head back and drink after that advice.

Looking over his past trysts, Gendry was grateful he was at least a productive when heartbroken. It could be worse.

And now he had the whole day to do anything. Stretching his arms up, he considered his options. The men he had befriended in his time at Winterfell were gone for the week, given leave to work on rebuilding the southern town’s well. The stone had been knocked loose in the frenzy to fight the fire and had started to fall into itself in the weeks after. He had wanted to go, but something had kept him there.

That something was probably busy at work, as well. Gendry tapped his fingers along the work bench, thinking of the night before. He looked over at the pile of metal that the previous smith had left in his escape from the Stark armies. He went over and pulled the largest piece away from the wall, inspecting the shorter pieces below. Carefully he reached down and plucked a thin sheet from the pile. He held it up and traced a small circle with his finger. Nodding, he placed the piece under his arm and made for his drafting bench.

 

Sansa waited until after supper to sneak to the kitchens. She waved kindly at the women before ducking into the pantry, and pulling a bottle of wine from the top shelf. Before she left, she grabbed a small loaf of bread and hid her tokens under her cloak. She thanked the women again before dipping through the door. She had told Alyson she wouldn’t need her for a second night in a row, and knew that people would begin to suspect it was for a reason beyond “giving the poor girl a break, I can brush my own hair”.

            Tugging the cloak around her tighter, she picked up her pace. She saw that the oilcloth had already been pulled down and the torch was out, but warm orange light shone through the bottom. She smirked and pushed the cloth back just in time to see Gendry standing in front of her.

“Oh,” she said.

“I was just coming to look for you,” he said. Sansa felt her cheeks warm.

“Can I come in?” she asked sweetly. He nodded.

“Of course,”

She moved past him and made for the door to his room. He stood watching her, perplexed, before following her in. When he pushed the door open, he saw that she had dropped her cloak on the floor and placed small loaf of bread on top of the rumpled fabric. She stood in a plain, white linen dress, and yanked the cork from the top of the wine with a satisfying pop.

“We’re getting drunk,” she told him, tossing the cork somewhere in the corner. She took a swig of wine and handed it to him.

“That’s not going to get me drunk,” he said, reaching out to take the bottle. He took a sip, keeping his eyes on her.

“Then we’ll drink the spirits I saw in your trunk,” she said, pointing over to a chest without looking where. She reached out for the wine bottle and took another drink.

“I thought it was so well hidden, too.” Gendry took the bottle from her hand. He hadn’t even opened the thing yet. It had been on Bess when she died. He turned his attention back to Sansa, who was waiting for him to take a drink.

“What are we getting drunk for?” he said, taking the hint and bringing the bottle to his lips.

“Because my sister is alive,” Gendry choked on his sip. Sansa reach out and took the bottle, offering him a halfhearted pat on the arm as she took another, longer swig.

“W-What?” Gendry coughed into his fist. Sansa kept drinking.

She finally dropped the bottle, and handed it back to him, significantly lighter. He looked in and saw that the two of them (more her, he reasoned) had already drank 3 /4 of the bottle.

“She killed Mace Tyrell,” Sansa explained. Gendry’s eyebrows shot up. Sansa hiccupped and pulled a piece of parchment from her dress’s pocket. She unfolded it and held it up, moving to stand beside him so he could look over it with her. It was a map, with small marks peppered across.

“This is where they found Mace Tyrell,” she pointed to a small red ‘x’. “He had his eyes missing. His cock was shoved in his mouth,” Gendry felt a bit shocked by her crude language, but realized she had also just drank a good amount. He took another sip of the wine.

“They found a sword in his stomach. It was the small one that our brother,” Sansa paused. Cousin? She shook her head. “-Jon, had made for her.”

“Needle,” Gendry said.

“Yeah!” Sansa squeaked a little more excitedly than she meant. Gods, that was strong wine.

“That’s incredible,” he said. Arya. The last time he saw his friend she was still small. If she could do this to someone…Gendry reminding himself not to call her “m’lady” even in jest when he saw her.

Sansa nodded enthusiastically  returned her attention to the map. “The sword went missing later than night. And look,” she coughed a bit before pulling the map more taut. “I went through every raven’s message of the past five months. There’s been attacks in all of these cities…” she drew a line from the south-western border of Highgarden to the tip of Storm’s End. “I hadn’t wanted to read these when they came,” she explained “but apparently, of the twelve men who…” Sansa shook her head. “…of the twelve of them, 9 of them are dead. That leaves three more,” she pulled a hand full of small notes from her pocket. Gendry wondered how much she could fit in there. Sansa held up three scraps of paper, sticking out between her fingers like claws.

“These three. Lord Evrett, Lord Obine, and Lord Trenton. I thought they had been put to the sword when the war ended, but their coin saved them. They abandoned their homes in Highgarden and…” she pulled her finger across the map. “One relocated to Casterly Rock. King Tyrion sent me a personal apology, claiming he was trying to find him.”

“And you believe him?” Gendry asked. Sansa’s eyes flicked up to him.

“I do,” she says sincerely. She turned her attention back to the map. “Last Tyrion wrote, he believe he’s somewhere along the shore. Cersei was a childhood friend, and her home is along the coast…” Gendry dropped his hand down and took Sansa’s hand in his own, giving it a quick squeeze. He saw her smile before continuing on.

“That leaves Lord Obine and Lord Trenton. They relocated to the Stormlands just months ago, and found a place at Stannis Baratheon’s court.” She trailed her finger down towards Summerhall. “Obine has a cushy job in Summerhall, and Trenton found a place right on Stannis’s council…” she dropped a finger on Storm’s End. “She went there at first, but she missed them. Since Mace was found so close to the border, I think she’s looping back for Edric’s coronation.”

“Where she can get all three at once,” Gendry nodded.

“If not more,” she folded up her map and put it in her pocket. She reached out and took the bottle. “I’m going to the coronation.”

“Why?” he asked. “If they see you there, and she’s caught, they’ll declare war.”

“They’d declare war if she was caught either way,” she said. “Stannis is hungry for the North. His Lords ousted him from his throne in Storm’s End as a political move to gain favor with Margery. But if they gain a territory, someone will have to be at Winterfell. If I go, I can distract Stannis. Discuss an engagement.”

Gendry felt his fist clench.

“What if she doesn’t come back?” he asked. “You go and nothing happens? You just have to see those men again.”

Sansa nodded.

“It’s a risk.”

“And when Stannis figures out you won’t marry? What then?”

“It is not an act of war for a woman to change her mind about the possibility,” she said. “He’d have no support.”

Gendry took the bottle from her after she took another swig. He brought it to his lips but felt it was empty with the exception of maybe a few drops. He stuck his tongue in the bottle neck to change them.

“You’re really good with your tongue,” she said out of nowhere. Gendry felt his cheeks flare. “Have I told you that?”

He dropped the bottle from his lips and made for his chest.

“I’m going to need more,” he said, reaching in and plucking the bottle up. He twisted off the lid and took a swig.

“Not all of it!” she said hurrying over. “I haven’t even gotten to the hard part yet!”  
“Hmmpf- the hard part?” he swallowed.

Sansa sighed.

“I want to talk about it,” she said, looking at her palms.

Gendry took a moment to comprehend what she said. He lifted the bottle up.

“Here,” he said. She took the drink and took a small sip, immediately coughing and handing it back.

“I feel like I just swallowed dust,” she coughed again. Gendry smiled and brought the bottle back up to his mouth.

Sansa regained composure and looked him expectantly as he took another sip and twirled the top back on.

“Alright,” he said. He gestured to what he had come to consider ‘their’ place – right in front of the fire. He had found an old rug that morning under one of the chests and spread it out. He had imagined them sitting on it, Sansa laying back with her legs on his shoulders-

_Gods, Gendry. What’s wrong with you? She’s about to talk about something terrible and you’re thinking about-_

“Gendry?” she asked. Her big eyes looked up at him expectantly.

Without thinking, he dropped his hand to his pocket, running his palm over the small, hard piece inside.

“Yes, love,” he said sitting down and placing the bottle in between them. He took her hand. “I’m listening.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh...trigger warning for the next chapter. 
> 
> But heyyyyyy ARYA


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHATS UP  
> Finals are done, I've gotten into a few Ph.D programs, and now I have time to relax and get back to writing fanfiction, like god intended. 
> 
> Probably typos, but HEYYYYYYYYYY UPDATESSSS

He stared up at the roof of his hut, Sansa sleeping deeply beside him. His head was spinning from the spirits, but he couldn't let himself go enough to fall asleep. All he saw when he closed his eyes was her.

Her, hungry and cold and shaking in some cell. 

She had told him all of it- the days without food, the cruel requests her captors would demand of her, where they would put their hands- it ran through his head as if it were a dog on a post, digging deeper into the dirt with each futile cycle. When she had finished, he had held her, trying his best to be the strong, supportive thing she needed to lay her head on. But now, as the night grew darker and colder, he found himself gazing up, negotiating the validity of his feelings. 

He was mad. He was hurt. He wanted to beat something to a pulp and then cry for hours in a dark, warm place. He looked over at Sansa and was enraged at the idea someone could touch her, _would_ touch her- but at the same time chastised himself. What right did he have to be this angry? To indulge in the rage? It had happened to her, not him. He wondered if, because he loved her, he saw her trauma as a slight against him- and he hated himself, if that were the case. 

He looked over to where she slept. Her face was turned towards the wall, but her hands were held up by her head, as if she had fallen asleep in a lazy stretch. She had borrowed one of his tunics to sleep in, and the neckline fell over her shoulder, giving him a peek at her bare skin. He bit his lip. 

He pulled her closer by the waist, and, in turn, she twisted, snuggling up against his shoulder.  

"You're awake," she said, lazily. Gendry shamed himself for waking her.

"Go back to sleep, love." he reached up and stroked her hair lightly. She smiled, opening her eyes to look at him. 

"I don't want to," she said, keeping her eyes trained on his. 

"Well it's not the time to get up just yet-" he sat up to get a better look at the position of the moon, but Sansa pulled his neck back down. 

"Oh, whatever will we do with the time?" she asked before pressing her lips against his. She sighed, and reached down to bring his hands to her breasts. 

_That's why I wouldn't let you touch me on my breasts that first night, remember? The men...they would pinch, and bite, and I would feel so used and...it just sent me back there._

Gendry pulled his hands back immediately as if he had just touched a hot plate.

_You're pawing at her like a barbarian. Just like they did._

He sat back on his knees, looking down at the woman below him. Her expression was a mix of confusion and hurt.

Silently, she reached over the side of the bed and found his trousers. Without a word, she slipped over and stood, pulling them on.

"Sansa-"

"It's fine," she said, cinching the tie around her waist a little too tightly. She bent down to pick up her dress, and Gendry caught her hand. 

"I didn't-"

"It's fine," she said again, in the same unconvincing tone. Gendry frowned. 

"I need to get back." she offered up. Clumsily, she made her way to the door, balancing her shows and dress in her hands. 

"You'll be seen," he said. "Sansa, please-"

But she pushed through the door.

She wasn't going to cry in front of him again. 

 ......

It consumed her thoughts as she packed the next morning. 

Rejected her. Threw his hands off of her like she was something foul. Who could blame him? She had told him everything-every humiliating thing- and of course he had recoiled. She threw a shawl into the truck by the window with a little too much force. 

She was dirty, and he had finally seen it. It was only a matter of time. 

Sansa felt the telling tickle grow in the base of her throat. Willing it away, she shook her head and made for the door, opening it just in time to see her brother sitting down in his apparatus. 

"Ser Carrick awaits orders," Bran reported. Sansa nodded and hoped her eyes didn't appear as glossy as she feared.

"Tell him I'm sending my things down now, and will be ready to leave in ten minutes," she said. Bran gave her a curt nod before manuevering to turn down the corridor. Sansa closed the door behind her, and pressed her palms into the wood. Without thinking, she slid down, her back bumping and bruising against each hard bolt. When she reached the floor, she let her forehead fall to her knees. 

_Ruined it. Ruined everything. Should have just stopped going to him. Should have just been Eryn Snow for longer._

.....

He was atop one of the older mares when she came out. She was dressed in simple traveling clothes, and her hair was pulled back in a simple knot at the base of her skull. Her expression did not change from the cool, unconcerned look as she waltzed across the courtyard and made for the carriage entrance. 

"On your leave, Ser Carrick," she called once she had settled inside. The man at the front whistled, and the horses began to slowly shuffle into place. Gendry tried to keep his head straight as they marched on, but knowing she was behind him kept his mind preoccupied. Her presence burned him, even when he couldn't see her, and he found the first three hours of the ride he was consumed with temptation to look over his shoulder, make a hand gesture, or hand back to check up on her. Instead, he kept his face forward, like a nervous child trying to avoid their guardian's disapproving gaze, dreading to be called into the other room for a 'talk'. 

When they stopped to water the horses, he sensed his chance. Casually as he could, he strolled back to her carriage, where she was poorly pretending not to see him and stay consumed in her reading. 

"Sansa," he said when he was close enough, just loud enough for her to hear. "Can we speak later?"

She had wanted to keep her eyes on the papers, to pretend like she was so above it all and aloof. Yet, when she flicked her eyes up to his, she felt her resolve melt. 

"Meet me by the supplies cart two hours into the first watch," she said, dropping her attention back down to papers as if she had only given him a casual order rather than instructions. He nodded, and walked towards the back, trying to think of something he could pretend to do that would justify him talking to the Queen. 

In the end it turned out to be helping Ser Carrick with his horses. 

He dropped down to cup some water from the stream and splash it on his face when the old man approached from his side. Wiping his eyes, Gendry looked up to see Carrick regarding him with the same expression he had days earlier in his shop. Unsettled, Gendry spoke up. 

"Not bad weather for riding," he said, ticking his head to the side as if pointing towards the sky. Carrick nodded and looked over his shoulder.  

"I was wondering if you could help me with these two," he said. "They're always so stubborn, and never want to drink when we stop." 

Gendry stood from his crouching position and gestured for Carrick to lead the way. Once they had each taken a horse's reigns in hand, the began to try enticing them to walk towards the water. 

"I was wondering, Gendry," Carrick said as they trying coaxing the two stubborn mares to the water's edge. "If you would take a meeting with me in the Stormlands."

"A meeting? What for?"

Carrick shook his head. 

"Nothing I feel comfortable talking about in the open, if you don't mind," he said. Gendry regarded the older man, looking him up and down, as if his scans would reveal his true motives. 

"Sounds ominous," he retorted, patting his mare when she finally dipped down to drink. 

"'Ominious'?" Carrick laughed. "Where did a bastard from Flea city learn that word?"

Gendry bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. 

.......

Sansa snuck out of her carriage, careful not to wake the snoring Alyson, and scampered barefoot through the field. The stars provided just enough light to illuminate her path, while letting her remain somewhat concealed by the darkness and tall grass. When she managed to sneak up to the supply closet, she lowered her hood and quietly considered the man standing in front of her. 

"You wanted to talk?"

He looked around them before reaching out to take her hand. Quietly, he led them out to the forest, taking her deeper into the woods where they would be hidden by the trees. When he was satisfied no one would see or hear them, he dropped her hand and turned.

"I owe you an apology," he said. 

Sansa's eyebrows shot up.

"For what?"

"For last night," he said. "You told me everything and I was trying to be supportive...but I couldn't help thinking that when I touched you..."

"No," she said, cutting him off. He looked up at her. Her eyes looked wet, and her voice broke as she approached him. "You aren't. You're nothing like-"

"You shouldn't be telling me this," he said. "I should be the one taking care of you, not you reassuring me-"

"It concerns you," she said. "and it's a terrible thing to deal with. You're allowed to have emotions."

"But it's not about me!" he said, his voice breaking a bit at the end. Sansa's face softened, and she reached up to cup his cheek. 

"I shouldn't have left," she said. "I thought..."

"Thought what?" he said when she didn't finish. He dropped his forehead to hers, waiting for an answer. She swallowed. 

"I thought you...thought I was dirty. A whore," she said. "That you didn't desire me because of what I had told you,"

Gendry felt a split down the center of his chest. 

"No." he said in a frantic, worried tone. "Never. I didn't- I was mad, but I would never think that about you. You must know that."

Sansa was silently crying now, trying her best to keep the tears in. 

"I couldn't have you looking at me the way the others do," she said. She managed to open her eyes and look up at him, desperately. "please don't pity me to the point where I'm just a sad little girl to you. I can't take it if you do it. I'd rather you hate me."

"Hate you?" he balked. He took a step forward. "I could never hate you." 

Before she could answer, he dropped his face down to hers, catching her lips. She smiled against him, and laid her hands on his chest before working her fingernails up his throat to tangle in his hair. She felt like she had floated against the tree he now held her against, her back pressed into the rough bark and only cushioned by the thin material of her dress. Gendry dropped his mouth down to her neck, but kept his hands firmly on her waist. 

"You promise you don't think I'm disgusting?" she asked, still insecure.

Gendry looked up from where he had been preoccupied. She waited for him to make fun of her. To roll his eyes at her constant questioning and insecurity. 

But he didn't. 

"No, love," he said, so sweetly she felt all the air leave her lungs.

She believed him. 

Encouraged, she pulled down hthe neckline of her dress, loosening it until she could wriggle her shoulders free and pull it below her breasts. Gendry followed suit, dropping his hands to mess with the ties of his pants. Once they were both done, he fell against her again, lifting her up and pulling her legs around his waist. Between them, his hands begun to ruck up her skirts, pulling them up from the space that separated him from her cunt. He dropped his mouth to one of her breasts, taking the nipple between his teeth as he ground his length against her. Sansa moaned. 

"Yes?" he asked, released his mouth from her. 

"Yes," she said. 

Without any further hestitation, he pressed into her. She was still a bit sore from the time a week before, but the initial resistance wasn't there, probably helped along now that she knew there was nothing to be afraid of, not with him. 

He dipped two fingers into his mouth and dropped them to where they were joined. Slowly, he began to set a rhythm, and dropped his mouth down to her chest again. 

Sansa let her head fall back against the bark, and just barely felt how cold the air breezed over her exposed skin. She brought her forehead to the top of Gendry's head, and pressed a kiss on his hairline before letting her head fall back against the tree with a breathy moan. She scratched down his shoulder as he readjusted them, pressing up them up closer to the tree and each other. Once he had her weight supported, he began to move inside her again. 

"You're not like them," she said, her breath warming the curve of his ear as she whispered in desperate little bursts. "You'll never be like them." 

He began to snap his hips harder, as if this were the most erotic encouragement he could have needed. He bit down on her shoulder and tightened his grip on her buttock, rutting her into the tree. Sansa bit her lip and dropped her face down to hover in front of his. 

"I'm close," she said. 

Gendry nodded, and began pumping faster. His quadriceps burned from the activity, but he felt something more primal push him on. When Sansa's pretty mouth fell into a fluttery 'o' and he felt her strong contractions clutch around him, he finally let himself go and came inside of her. 

The two remained pressed up against the tree, breathing heavily. Gendry was the first to move, pulling himself from her as she let out a small mewl and tucking himself back into his pants. He reached out and began to tie the front of her dress up, as she looked up at him with an adoration he felt he didn't deserve. 

"This was the most brutish thing I've done," he said when they stood, clothed, in their places against the tree. "Taking you against a tree like some barbarian."

"I quite liked it, if you didn't notice." she said. Suddenly, her face became serious, and she looked back up at him. "I like when you're rough. You don't have to apologize."

"Okay," he said weakly. Sansa pursed her lips, unconvinced. 

"I'm not made of porcelain," she said softly. When she dropped her head, Gendry realized what he had done. He had told her that he didn't believe her. 

"Good," he said. He dropped his mouth down and kissed her. He took her bottom lip between his teeth and bit, causing her to send out a little shriek of pleasure. He began kissing and biting down her throat as she giggled. 

"Stop," she said. "We just got dressed,"

"I just want to do this one thing, love," he said, biting the juncture between her neck and shoulder. "Should you allow it."

"I suppose," she said, smiling to herself. Gendry felt a warm expand from the center of his stomach, and he pressed another kiss to her skin. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided not to go into a ton of detail about Sansa's abuse- didn't serve any real purpose besides ~EDGY~ and didn't help her character arc. I hate when they include the violence in tv shows but then it's never needed in the narrative of the survivor's recovery.


End file.
